#no shame is practicing hobbies man

[vizybs]

a little rant this is not targeted at any specific users, i quite literally cannot name users who have done this off the top of my head but, i see it happen a bit too often so here we are.

guys i beg of you… stop making our little demon brat “feral” it is weird he is a passive aggressive well spoken little guy who has murder tendencies when provoked or when he assumes he’s been wronged okay?

Damian’s not some animal they put on a leash and go “aw shucks no biting!!” —absolutely not, he is a sophisticated little brat who takes action when he feels he needs to and he must be respected! Like seriously the lowkey jokes at him bein feral make me wanna start swingin hands

This is not pointing at any specifc fics or posts btw its just… no. its jus disappointing his character has been boiled down to this sometimes hes not even amongst my top fav characters in dc but i still feel so wronged whenever i see him being reduced to that.

Theres a thing about growing up and learning to ignore things you dont like, but i just.. this is like. gross. I wish people viewed characters outside ‘haha mom friend’ ‘haha feral one’ ‘the sad one!!’ because most of the time they start putting characters in these boxes so often they end up entirely misinterpreting them and their whole character w/o even noticin.

Yes Damian tends to be the one shown as the first to throw hands but that doesnt mean he is the ‘feral one’—a brat and a menace sure but he doesnt act without reason, he has a very streamlined thought process and is an intelligent little dude whose figuring this new world out, albeit absolutely not in the best way but thats what makes characters interesting!!

Please dont take characters at their face value and make that their entire personality. Damian is arguably one of the most complex and well written characters in the batfamily—please dont water him down just to make him ‘feral’ for a half-baked joke

[s0dium]

𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑!!!

𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d find out that your crush, Geto Suguru, was just like you: a murderer. Not only that but you share the same passion; killing criminals and pedophiles! (Happy Kinktober) 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: DARK CONTENT, gore, mutilation, murder, mentions of pedophiles (y/n kills them), serial killing, unprotected sex, breeding, choking, teasing, knife play, whipped Suguru 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k 𝐀/𝐧: This is based HEAVILY on the novel Butcher and Blackbird by Brynne Weaver. The original idea is credited to Brynne Weaver ONLY. This work is fan fiction and is not intended for commercial purposes or to infringe on the intellectual property rights of the original author.

Being a serial killer who kills other killers, pedophiles, and rapists is a great hobby.

Until you find yourself locked in a cage.

For three days.

No AC.

With a body you carved up.

You glare at the fly-riddled corpse whose legs are kneeling opposite of you in the locked cage you were both trapped in. The air is thick with the putrid stench of decay, a relentless assault on your senses. The body's skin is pallid, marred by the writhing mass of white maggots that feast mercilessly. Where eyes once held gaze, now only hollow sockets remain, tediously scooped out and vacant. The ears too have been sheared off, leaving clean edges that blend into the mottled, blood-stained flesh. Its chest has been cracked open; ribs pried apart in a macabre mimicry of an unhinged broken cocoon, revealing the dark, empty cavity where a heart once beat.

Then, of course, the piste de resistance of your work, the removed eyes, ears, and heart rest in the corpse's upturned palms—placed with ceremonial care amidst the chaos of mutilation.

So now, if anyone were to walk down the steps of Gary Green House's basement, they would not only find his mutilated body, but the person who did it, trapped in a cage together.

"Fuck." You curse at yourself for the millionth time since you've been trapped here for the last three days. The cold realization that you've fallen into Gary’s final trap gnaws at your mind as relentlessly as the maggots at the corpse across from you. The cage, a cruel relic of Gary’s twisted pleasures, had seemed the perfect place for your ritual—turning the hunter into the hunted in his own den of horrors. But in your fervor to see him pay, you overlooked one crucial detail: the cage's sinister design, which sealed shut the moment its door swung closed.

The remote control, now a mocking symbol of freedom, lies just beyond the bars, on a small, grimy table. You remember the sickening click of the lock, the finality of it echoing in the cramped space as you turned back from the grisly task of dismembering Gary—his last, silent victory.

Even the idiot police could deduce that this was all your doing, seeing as all your bloody tools were still with you in your backpack. With fingerprints. It was just a matter of time before they opened the basement door.

You could practically hear Gary’s voice from beyond the grave: "Hah! Serves you right, you stupid bitch! That's what you get for killing me!" The taunt echoes in your head like a song over and over again and you're seriously contemplating banging your head against the iron bars.

"FUCK FINE!" You yell into the darkness. "I renounce my wicked ways!"

"That's a shame. I bet I would like your wicked ways."

You jump at the sound of a man's deep, smooth voice, the cadence of slight raspiness warming every note. Your curses cut the humid air from the startlement of the man's presence. How the hell did he even get in here? You didn't hear the basement door open. You scurry out of reach of the man who saunters into the thin thread of light from the narrow window, the glass opaque with fly shit.

"You seem to be in a predicament." He says stepping into view. The thin light from the window partially illuminates him, allowing you to make out his face. Oh rather, what is on his face.

Holy shit.

A ghost mask stares back at you, its hollow eyes and elongated mouth frozen in a chilling scream. The stark white of the mask contrasts sharply with the surrounding shadows, and you watch with wide eyes as he tilts his head.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

In any other situation, you might be fan-girling. You know exactly who you're staring at: the infamous Crucifer, a killer, like you, but notorious for his crucifixion of criminals in rather, flamboyant displays. The few eyewitness accounts of the Crucifer all mention the ghost mask, leaving no doubt in your mind about his identity.

While your hunting grounds have been Osaka, his have typically been Tokyo, but despite the geographical difference, his reputation precedes him. In all honesty, you shouldn’t be surprised he’s here. Your victim, Gary Greenwich, is notorious even among the authorities. Despite his crimes, the lack of solid evidence has always allowed him to slip through the cracks of the justice system, leaving him free to continue his heinous activities. He was high on your kill list, and it’s no surprise he was high on Crucifers as well.

He takes a few steps closer toward the cage to stare down at the corpse, bending to take a closer look.

"Well what happened here?" He chuckles.

You are on day three of no food. No water. The gnawing hunger in your stomach feels like a relentless beast, clawing at your insides with increasing ferocity. You wonder if your body has started to eat its own organs at this point.

You can't deal with this shit.

"Self defense." You say.

The man chuckles. "I doubt that, you're not his type." Despite his mask you can feel his eyes shift from the corpse to linger on you.

"And how would you know that?"

"Well disregarding the state in which you "self defense" left him, you're not a 6 year old boy. And," he steps closer so now he is inches away from the bars and his whole body is illuminated. "I make it my business to know."

You don't answer. Instead you watch as he crouches down to meet your gaze. You try to hide behind your tangled hair and folded limbs, giving him only your eyes.

And of course, just your luck, he is stunning

Black hair flows behind his mask and down his shoulder. He's wearing a black compression shirt that hugs every muscle of his biceps and forearms, accentuating his athletic build. His broad shoulders enhance his imposing presence, giving him the aura of a seasoned athlete. Black cargo pants complete his ensemble, practical and intimidating, with a hunting knife sticking out of his pocket, probably what he would've used on Gary if you hadn't got to him first.

Something about him looks familiar, something you can't put your finger on.

"I guess you made it your business to know too." He pauses before moving even closer so his mask is practically pressed against the iron bars. "Hey, you look pretty familiar."

You shift uncomfortably, feeling the prickle of anxiety creeping up your spine. Instinctively, you brush a tangled lock of hair from your face, wincing as it catches on your dry lips. The man's shoulders tense as if he has been electrocuted.

"Y/n?" His voice cuts through the thick silence like a knife.

Oh, what the hell.

You jerk your head up from your hunched posture, eyes wide in shock, meeting the unsettling, hollow eyes of the ghost mask. Your heart races, pounding loudly in your chest.

"Wha-"

"Oh my god, it is you!" He exclaims, his loud deep voice echoing through the basement.

"I'm sorry, I don't-" you stammer, confusion and fear knotting in your stomach.

"It's me," he interrupts, and with a swift motion, he takes off his mask. The sight of his familiar face makes your breath catch in your throat. "Suguru Geto."

Suguru Geto. The name alone sent ripples through your thoughts, dragging along memories and emotions you had long buried. Suguru wasn’t just any ordinary guy; he was a micro-celebrity in Tokyo, renowned for his breathtaking tattoo artistry. His ink adorned the bodies of celebrities, flaunted in TikToks and Instagram posts that garnered thousands of likes. His reputation was impeccable, his designs sought after by the elite.

You had crossed paths with Suguru a few times at various parties, your social circles occasionally overlapping due to mutual friends. Each encounter left an indelible mark on you. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. It wasn’t just his talent that made him irresistible; it was everything about him. Those hawk-like eyes that seemed to pierce through to your very soul, the perfect curve of his lips that could shift from a smirk to a genuine smile in an instant, and those dimples that appeared whenever he graced you with that smile—each feature was a weapon, effortlessly disarming.

You, like many other girls, harbored a secret crush on Suguru Geto. It was impossible not to. That face alone could kill, and his charisma was the final blow.

And now, here he was, standing right in front of you, unmasked and undeniably real. The reality of it all hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and a little overwhelmed.

Suguru clears his throat, a small smirk playing on his lips from how obviously you are gawking at him.

"Shot in the dark here but are you the Mute Collector?"

You part your lips to say something but you can't seem to form the right words.

"I-"

Suguru's grin widens and a sharp laugh escapes his perfect mouth. "Oh my god. I knew it. I fucking knew they had it wrong about you with that bull shit profile they built. What was it, they said you were a 30 year old white man?" Suguru throws his head back and smiles at the ceiling. "And the Mute Collector? You? That's just awesome. I'm such a huge fan."

"Yeah..." You clear your throat and push your hair completely out of your face. He grins at you, as though awe struck, and if you weren't wearing 100 layers of grime on your skin you are sure he'd be able to see the blush flaming in your cheeks for a second.

"And you?" You nod toward the mask. "You are?" You don't know why you are feigning ignorance but something about humbling him seems tastier than actual food right now.

"Oh come on." Suguru's tone flattens and he brings the mask up next to his face.

"The Crucifer?"

You shake your head.

"The cross maker?"

You shake your head again. Lying through your teeth is fun.

"The Tokyo Butcher?" When you shake your head he sighs and stands up. "Well," he glances to Gary whose maggots have made their way to the empty eye sockets. "What do you say? We ditch this lousy scene and get something to eat. Maybe when you get food in your stomach you will remember some of my little nicknames."

Your eyes widen and your stomach growls loudly, reminding you of how long it's been since you last ate. You glance up at your Suguru, a mix of hope and suspicion in your gaze.

"Are you serious?" you ask, your voice hoarse from dehydration.

"Yeah, after we get you a shower, some clothes and burn the house down."

You gulp and stand to your feet. "Could we get burgers?"

Suguru grins before grabbing the remote and pointing it at the cage.

"Fine by me."

~

The Mute Collector.

Geto Suguru is sitting across from the fucking Mute Collector.

And god you are beautiful.

Not that he just realized it now. Like many others, he has always known how attractive you are; he just pushed it to the back of his mind. But now, knowing who you really are and what you do in your free time, your body has practically been encompassed in bright warm light and your head adorned with a halo. He watches as you down your 6th cup of water with a sigh and wipe your mouth with your sleeve.

The two of you sit in a cozy booth at a restaurant, the warm, smoky aroma filling the air. Suguru leans back with a beer in hand, watching you with a mix of amusement and caution. The waitress approaches, placing a large plate with a double cheeseburger and fries in front of you. Your eyes light up, and without wasting a second, you pick up the cheeseburger with your fingers and take a big bite, savoring the flavors.

Suguru chuckles, raising his beer in a mock toast. "You look like you've just found the Holy Grail."

He doesn't miss the way you stifle back a laugh, trying to speak through a mouthful of burger. "If the Holy Grail were covered in cheese and ketchup, then yeah, maybe."

He takes a sip of his beer, grinning. "I’ve never seen someone so excited about food. Maybe you should give up your little hobby and do food reviews."

"Well, that's what being trapped in a cage with the rotting corpse of a pedophile does to you I guess." You grumble, setting down the burger and taking another drink of water.

Suguru's eyes stay on you, and he takes the opportunity to really assess you. Your hair is damp, and the wetness seeps into the white Mickey Mouse shirt you're wearing, causing it to cling slightly to your skin and reveal the elegant lines of your collarbone. He bought that shirt and the shorts for you at a thrift store, and despite the fact that such clothes should look bad on anyone, you are rocking them effortlessly.

He can't help but notice that you didn't buy a bra, a fact that makes him smile to himself.

No bra.

"So tell me." Suguru sets his beer back on the table and leans in.

"The whole ears, eyes and heart thing." He waves his left hand in the air. "The police say it's satanic ritual stuff but I don't buy it."

You pause, a hint of a smile playing at your lips as you meet his gaze. "It's simple, really. Hear no evil, see no evil, fear no evil."

Suguru raises an eyebrow. "You have a way of making the macabre sound poetic."

You're about to reach for a fry, but he snatches it before your fingers could reach it.

"Why not the tongue?" He says. "You know, speak no evil."

You roll your eyes and snatch the fry out of his fingers. "Tongues are hard to cut, too slippery and make a mess."

He nods thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. "You know, most people would be horrified to hear you talk like that."

"Good thing you’re not most people," you reply with a smirk.

"Touché."

He watches as your lips wrap around the thick fry and your teeth rip off half of it into your mouth.

No bra.

"What about you Suguru?" You lock eyes with him. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?"

"You heard me. You swoop in all superman-like, save me from the dipshit’s pedo dungeon and take me out for a double cheeseburger. Why are you here?"

Suguru shrugs and averts his gaze from your unyielding stare. Shit, your piercing eyes are almost making him sweat.

"Same thing you already did. I was going to skin him alive and and display the fucking monkey Jesus style infront of his house. At least, something like that."

"Yeah but why him? I thought your hunting grounds were in Tokyo?"

Your eyes widen slightly as the words hang in the air, the weight of your mistake sinking in immediately. You feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, a telltale sign of your embarrassment. Your lips part as if to take back the words, but it's too late; they've already been spoken.

A sly smile spreads across Sugurus face as he watches your face fall.

"Oh you totally know who I am Y/n."

"Fucking hell."

"You do! You know that I like to hunt near my home, how long have you been a part of my fan club?"

You roll your eyes and fall back into your seat. You blink rapidly, trying to maintain your composure, but the subtle tension in your jaw and the furrowing of your brow betray your embarrassment.

"So which one was your favorite? The monkey I strung up next to the police station? Or the one I flayed inside the Tokyo Union Church?"

"Oh my god I can already tell you are going to be insufferable." You grumble, the heat of embarrassment slowly dissipating as you take a deep breath. Suguru leans back, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he swirls the beer in his hand, watching you with an almost predatory curiosity. As seconds pass, Suguru assesses your face, following how your eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape route, and Suguru’s playful expression falters for a split second. He realizes with a sudden jolt that you're trying to leave. He can't have that. He needs to see you again.

"Hey speaking of suffering," Suguru clears his throat. "Have you heard about the women killings in Kyoto?"

Your eyebrows raise, curiosity piqued. "Yeah, I've heard. Pretty gruesome stuff. Why do you ask?"

A playful smile tugs at his lips. "How about a friendly competition? The killer's already taken six lives so far."

You tilt your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you try to decipher his intentions. "What do you mean by a competition?"

Suguru leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "That's exactly what it sounds like. Who can hunt him down first?"

For a moment, you're taken aback, your eyes widening as you process his proposal. A mix of surprise and intrigue flickers across your face. "Are you serious?"

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. "As sin."

"And what do we get if we win?"

Suguru's eyes gleam with amusement and something else—admiration. "Bragging rights, of course. And maybe... another dinner like this one."

You throw your head back and let out a laugh. "Oh yeah? Who says I'll need you to get me another dinner?"

"Can't let you go hungry again. What do you say?”

~

You sit at your desk, the dim light of your laptop casting a pale glow on your face as you scroll through articles about the woman killer from Kyoto. The room is quiet, save for the occasional click of your mouse and the hum of the laptop. Your phone buzzes, and you glance at the screen to see Shoko’s name. With a smile, you answer the call.

"Hey Shoko, how’s your night shift?" you greet her with a teasing tone.

Shoko’s laugh crackles through the speaker. "Busy as always. Just patched up a guy who thought he could outsmart a bulletproof vest with sheer willpower. Spoiler: he couldn’t."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Sounds like my type of guy."

By day, Shoko is your best friend and a dedicated med student, excelling in her studies with a, albeit, half hearted, passion for helping others. But when the sun sets, she transforms into the notorious Dr. Reverse, the underground doctor every criminal and lowlife turns to in their time of need. Using her medical expertise, she serves those who cannot seek help through legal means, operating in the shadows and patching up criminals who live by a different set of rules. In addition to her medical skills, she also deals in poisons, further cementing her reputation in the underworld.

You first met Shoko in a moment of desperation. After cornering a serial rapist, you were attacked with a machete, almost severing your arm. With nowhere else to turn, you sought out Dr. Reverse. Shoko skillfully sewed you up and, in the process, deduced that you were the infamous Mute Collector. To your surprise, she didn't seem to care about your identity, and you, in turn, didn't question her underground business or her dealings with poison. This mutual understanding and acceptance laid the foundation for a strong bond, and you've been best friends ever since. 

Shoko laughed, a sound that always manages to lift your spirits. "Right? Anyway, what's up? I saw your SOS text."

You hesitate, glancing at the photo of Geto Suguru on your screen on a separate tab. His annoyingly white teeth glare back at you, and you try to resist staring at his six pack in an instagram photo someone took of him at a pool party.  His dark eyes seemed to stare right through you, as if mocking your indecision. "It's about Geto."

There was a brief pause before Shoko's voice came back, tinged with curiosity. "Geto? What about him?"

You take a deep breath, your fingers drumming nervously on the desk. "He's the Crucifier."

Shoko's reaction was immediate and loud. "Geto is what?" she practically yelled through the phone, causing you to wince.

"The Crucifier. I know." You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all. "Can you believe it?"

Shoko let out a low whistle. "Wow. I mean, he always seemed like a guy with secrets, but I never pegged him for a serial killer, I mean, someone like you."

"Yeah, well, here we are," You mutter, rubbing your temples. You focus your attention back on your computer screen. Suguru is squeaky clean, not even a bad review on his website. There was only his questionable taste in best friends: Gojo Satoru—the biggest playboy and the infamous heir to the Gojo Company, Japan's largest and most influential corporation. Gojo's notoriety was legendary, his exploits plastered across tabloids and whispered in gossip circles. You’ve met, and been hit on by the man a few times, and not once did you fall for any of his slimy cheap antics. No, Geto Suguru is who your eyes fell on. 

 "And now he’s proposed some sort of competition."

"A competition?" Shoko's voice was practically dripping with amusement. "Like a hunting competition?”

You let out a snort of air through your nose. “Basically.”

Are you gonna do it?"

"I don't know," You admit, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand. "I said I would, but I don't know. I barely know the guy. Well, I thought I did."

"Well, you should," Shoko said, her tone shifting to one of gentle teasing. "Besides, isn't this your chance to get closer to your crush?"

You feel your cheeks flush. "Shoko, seriously? Come on, that was ages ago."

"Hey, I'm just saying," she replies, laughter bubbling up again. "This could be your big break."

"You're impossible," you grumble, though you can't help but smile. "How's the side business, by the way?"

"Thriving," she says and you can practically see her small smile through the phone.. "You'd be amazed at how many people need a little untraceable something for their enemies."

"I don't doubt it," you say, shaking your head. "Just stay safe, okay?"

"You too, Mute Collector," Shoko says, her voice softening slightly. "And remember, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

"Always," you reply, your smile growing wider. "Thanks, Shoko. Talk to you soon."

"Later," she says, and the line goes dead.

You lean back in your chair again, your thoughts drifting back to Geto Suguru and the strange, dangerous world you both inhabit. As much as you hate to admit it, Shoko is right. This is your chance, not just to catch some sick killer, but to uncover the secrets that lie hidden beneath Suguru’s enigmatic exterior.

With a sigh, you close your laptop and stand up, determination settling in your chest. The competition awaits, and you have a feeling it's going to be a game changer.

~

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Suguru rolls his eyes at the white hair man’s mocking tone and continues to stare at his phone. It's been 10 minutes. How long does it take for someone to respond to a text. Suguru lay sprawled on the couch, his eyes fixed on his phone. Across the room, Gojo was bustling about in the kitchen, the sound of utensils clinking and food sizzling filling the air.

"Is this about Y/n? The Mute Collector or whatever?" Gojo asked, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Suguru didn't respond, his gaze unwavering from the screen. He could feel Gojo's eyes on him, the scrutiny almost tangible.

"I don't think I've seen you put this much effort into a woman since, like... ever," Gojo continued, his tone teasing. He turned back to his cooking, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.

Suguru's jaw tightened, but he kept his silence. Gojo, undeterred, pressed on. "Besides the fact that she's the Mute Collector, what do you even see in Y/n? Well, I guess she does have other assets," he chuckled.

"Keep her name out of your fucking mouth, you prick," Suguru snapped, his voice low and menacing.

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender, a laugh escaping his lips. "Alright, alright, no need to get all territorial."

Suguru continued to stare at his phone, his fingers hovering over the keys. "How long does it take for someone to respond to a fucking text" he mutters under his breath.

Gojo leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Maybe she's busy. Or maybe she's just messing with you. You know, playing hard to get."

Suguru finally looks up, his eyes narrowing. "She doesn't play games. And she's not hard to get—she's hard to keep."

Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by Suguru's reaction. “Touchy, touchy,” he mutters, returning to his culinary task.

Just then, Suguru's phone pings. His heart skips a beat as he sees your name flash on the screen. He quickly opens the message, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reads your response.

Y/n: Fine, I'll do it. But what are the details?

Suguru: Oh, I'm thrilled

Y/n: Shut up.

Suguru: The rules are simple: whoever deduces the monkey’s identity first and guts the bastard wins.

Y/n: And how do I know you don’t already have a head start?

Suguru: I guess you'll just have to trust me. 

Y/n: Trust you? That’s rich coming from someone who literally stabs people in the back.

Suguru lets out a snort of air from your comment catching Gojo’s attention. “Ah, there it is. The smile of a man who's finally gotten what he wants.”

Suguru doesn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he focuses on your message, feeling a grin grow on his lips.

Suguru: You wound me, truly. But where’s the fun without a little challenge? Besides, I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you

Y/n: Easy, huh? I suppose you think you’re quite the genius, then?

Suguru: Only compared to the average monkey. You, on the other hand, might actually make this interesting.

Y/n: Is that a compliment or are you just trying to butter me up?

Suguru: Can’t it be both? 

Y/n: Oh, don't worry. You’re not the only one who enjoys a good chase. But don’t cry when I beat you at your own game.

Suguru: Cry? Please. I’ll be too busy admiring you in action. It’s a win-win for me.

Y/n: Flattery will get you nowhere, Suguru.

Suguru: Really?

Suguru: Not even a little bit princess 🥺?

Y/n: *One attachment*

You send an image of your hand flipping him off. Your middle finger nail is painted black and he assumes so are all your other fingers. His heart thuds against his chest. God, how he would love to have those nails dragging down his back. His dick twitches just thinking about it. 

Gojo snickers as if he can read Suguru’s thoughts and Suguru considers throwing his phone at the smug white hair man when Gojo’s phone rings. Any humor falls off Gojo’s features like snow from a shaken tree branch. He glances at the caller ID, his eyes narrowing, and picks up the phone with a serious tone.

“This is Gojo.” He says. His voice is gruff as he responds to the caller with clipped “yes” and “no” answers, his timbre low. “I'll be there in 30 minutes.” 

When he sets down the phone, Suguru meets his blue eyes, Gojo’s brief smile is grim.

“Trouble?” Suguru asks.

“Trouble.” Gojo repeats.

On the exterior Gojo is Japan's most infamous playboy and philanthropist. But by night he is the devil's tool, the country's most lethal assassin for anyone from politicians to presidents.  What Suguru and you do for a hobby, Gojo Satoru does for his job.

Gojo dumps his hot food in a container, grabs his hunting knife coat and bag and heads for the door. Before he exits, he turns around to lock eyes with Suguru.

“Be safe. A woman killer is a deadly combo.” He says.

Suguru chuckles, and for a second he doesn't know if Gojo’s talking about you or the guy in Kyoto. “You to ass hat.”  

~

You can't believe you are doing this. 

You can't believe that you took up Suguru’s competition, spent 120 dollars on a train and hotel room at Kyoto and an extra 20 on room service. Moreover you can't believe that you are here, hiding in a forest of bamboo shoots at the dead of night, watching some man who may or may not be the Kyoto women killer.

It’s a warm summer night, and every time the wind blows, the bamboo shoots rustle against each other, creating a haunting melody that sets your nerves on edge. The air is thick with the scent of earth and foliage, and the occasional hoot of an owl punctuates the silence. You’re crouched low, your body tense, watching a man named Noaya Zenin who you followed out here. He seems to be wandering aimlessly, but you know better than to underestimate him. The Zenin clan's reach is long and shadowy, and their involvement in the Kyoto women killings is a tangled web you’ve been unraveling. All key witnesses were either paid off by the Zenin clan or had lawyers representing them from the Zenin clan. The pattern was too precise to be a coincidence.

Your heart thuds in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The thrill of the chase, the hunt, makes your senses sharper, every movement and sound more pronounced. You can feel the need creeping up on you, slowly reaching your brain until your skin itches with anticipation. 

Each minute feels like an eternity as you scrutinize Noaya’s every move. He stops occasionally, looking around as if sensing he’s being watched, and you hold your breath, pressing yourself closer to the ground. The moonlight filters through the dense bamboo, casting eerie shadows that dance with the wind. Your mind races, piecing together fragments of evidence and suspicion. If Noaya Zenin is indeed the killer, catching him here could be the breakthrough you need.

“Hiya.”

A scream almost rips through you when you feel someone's breath against your ear, but you quickly cover your mouth and whip around. Of course, you’re met face to face with the man you least wanted to see right now. Familiar hazel eyes gaze back at you, glinting with mischief and amusement. Suguru is crouched right next to you, his nose mere inches from yours, a sly smirk on his face. You didn’t even hear him approach.

“Suguru, what the fuck?” you hiss, keeping your voice low. Your first instinct is to grab your knife out of your pocket and press it against his throat but he holds both his hands up as if surrendering, stopping you.

“Woah woah princess, let's cool our engines.” He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Your pulse is still racing, but you force yourself to calm down. “You could have given me a heart attack. How did you even find me?” You seethe.

“I have my ways,” he replies cryptically, his smirk widening. “Besides, I couldn’t let you have all the fun, now could I? So,” his eyes flicker to Noaya, who still seems to be staring at his phone. “Who are we looking at?”

“We?” You scoff and roll your eyes. “Are you kidding me? There is no we. This is a competition, remember? Go do your own research.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, come on. You know you love my company.”

Before you can retort, Noaya picks up his phone. You both strain to listen, and you catch his words clearly.

“Yeah, I’m at the bamboo forest. See you soon, babe.” He then hangs up the phone with a click and puts it back in his backpack. But just when you're about to turn back to Suguru and rip into the man, Noaya pulls something else out too. A hunting knife. A large one at that with serrated ends and a pointed tip that glints in the moon light. Just like the one used on the victims. And as if things couldn't get any more apparent, you watch as a wicked grin spreads across his face when he draws the blade diagonally through the air.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, eyes wide. “That’s definitely him. That’s like some comically evil villain shit right there.”

“Dibs,” Suguru whispers back, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he puts on his ghost mask. “I call fucking dibs.” He stands up, the crunch of leaves making Noaya whip around and stare right at the area you both hid in.

For a solid 5 seconds your two flabbergasted to even form words, you can only watch as Suguru steps out from the bamboo shoots and onto the trail, slowly walking toward Noaya like a lion cornering a gazelle. 

Or course, Noaya turns, screams like a little girl, and makes a hard right straight into the forest of bamboos.

“Oh hell no,” you mutter, leaping up and chasing after him. You sprint through the forest, the warm summer air thick and humid around you. Each footfall is muffled by the dense undergrowth, but the occasional snap of a twig or crunch of leaves marks your frenzied pace. Moonlight filters through the dense canopy, casting ghostly shadows that dance along the forest floor, creating an ever-shifting maze of light and dark.

Your breath comes in quick, controlled bursts, each inhale filling your lungs with the earthy scent of the forest. Adrenaline surges through your veins, sharpening your senses. The rhythmic pounding of your heart in your chest matches the rapid beat of your footsteps. Ahead, you can just make out the faint silhouette of Noaya, his panicked movements betraying his desperation.

Branches claw at your clothes and face, but you push through, eyes locked on your target. The thrill of the chase ignites every nerve, propelling you forward with a singular focus. Suguru’s presence is a constant just behind you, his footsteps a steady reminder of the competition driving you both. You can hear his breaths, steady and calculated, mirroring your own.

The path twists and turns, the bamboo growing thicker, creating a claustrophobic tunnel. You duck and weave, dodging low-hanging branches and vaulting over fallen logs. The forest floor is uneven, riddled with roots and hidden pitfalls, but your reflexes are sharp, your movements instinctual.

The thrill, the excitement, the danger—it all converges in this moment. You are a predator in your element, and your prey is within reach. The bamboo forest seems to blur around you, time stretching and contracting with each heartbeat. This is what you live for, the ultimate test of skill and nerve, the ultimate game of life and death.

Just as you’re about to close the distance, your fingertips brushing the fabric of Noaya’s shirt, he whirls around with surprising speed. The moonlight catches the gleam of his hunting knife as it arcs through the air. Instinct takes over, and you try to dodge, but the blade slices across your palm, leaving a hot, stinging line of red in its wake.

For a split second, time seems to slow. You see the wild desperation in Noaya’s eyes, the way his chest heaves with exertion and fear. But there’s no pain, only a white-hot fury that floods your veins, fueling your next move.

Your grip tightens around the hilt of your own knife, slick with blood but steady. The cut on your palm feels like a mere scratch compared to the surge of adrenaline that courses through you. With a fierce snarl, you lunge forward, using the momentum to drive Noaya back a step.

He stumbles, his confidence faltering as he realizes the severity of his mistake. You don’t give him a chance to recover. You move with a predatory grace, every muscle coiled and ready to strike. The forest around you fades into a blur of green and shadow, all your focus locked on the man in front of you.

Noaya swings wildly, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. You sidestep his attacks with practiced ease, your fury giving you a sharp, clear edge. The scent of blood mingles with the earthy aroma of the forest, and your pulse pounds in your ears like a war drum.

You close the distance again, this time with a calculated precision. Your free hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until the knife clatters to the ground. Noaya yelps in pain, his eyes widening in terror. The tables have turned, and he knows it.

Your injured hand, still bleeding, clamps down on his shoulder with a vice-like grip. You lean in close, your breath hot against his ear. “Nice try,” you hiss, the fury in your voice making him shudder. “But it’s over.”

With a swift, brutal motion, you plunge your knife into his chest. The blade sinks into flesh with a sickening thud, and Noaya's eyes widen in shock and agony. Blood spurts from the wound, hot and sticky, spraying across your face in a macabre mist. The initial strike is met with a gasp, a desperate, choking sound that fuels the savage fire within you.

A wicked grin spreads across your face, the thrill of dominance electrifying your senses. You pull the knife out, feeling the resistance of tissue and bone, and then plunge it in again, and again. Each thrust is accompanied by a wet, squelching sound, a symphony of carnage that drowns out the world around you. Blood flows freely, pooling at your feet and soaking into the earth.

Noaya’s body jerks and spasms with each stab, his strength fading with every violent assault. His once panicked eyes grow dull, the life draining from them as you continue your relentless attack. The coppery tang of blood fills the air, mingling with the scent of the forest, creating a heady mixture that makes your pulse race even faster.

You lose yourself in the rhythm of the violence, the way your muscles strain and flex with each plunge of the knife. Blood splatters across your face and clothes, warm and viscous, painting you in the evidence of your victory. Your grin widens, a feral expression of triumph and fury.

Amidst your frenzied stabbings, Suguru places a hand on your shoulder. "I think—" he begins, but when you turn around to face him he immediately shuts up.

Your eyes are wide, pupils contracted like a deranged predator. Your hair flows wildly in the wind as you grab Suguru's throat with your bloody hand, smearing the crimson on his skin and pressing him against a tree. 

"This woman-killer fucker is mine." You seethe.

His dick strains against his cargo pants waistband. You look divine.

“ Of course, All yours baby.” He coos.

~

Geto Suguru would be lying if he said that watching you tear apart that woman-killer wasn't the hottest thing he had ever seen. 

To Suguru, you looked divine. The moonlight accentuated the sharp angles of your face, casting shadows that danced across your blood-splattered skin. Your eyes, wild with the remnants of fury, glowed with an unearthly intensity. The contrast of crimson against your complexion made you seem otherworldly, a dark goddess of vengeance. Suguru couldn’t tear his eyes away, mesmerized by the raw, primal beauty you exuded in that moment.

The walk back to your hotel was silent, but not because you were soaked in blood or because he felt awkward. More like it was because the only think he could think to say is “You are so fucking hot.”

Now here he is, twiddling his thumbs as he stands outside of your hotel door, trying to think of the right thing to say to you because god he needs to see your face one last time before he goes to bed.

He raises his hand to knock, but before he can, the door swings open. You stand there, your hair wet and smelling faintly of vanilla. You’ve clearly just come out of the shower. A tank top clings to your damp skin, and sports shorts hug your thighs. His eyes widen slightly, and he gulps, struggling to keep his composure. 

No bra.

The sight makes his mouth go dry.

"Just checking to see if everything is good," he says, nodding toward your bandaged hand.

You feel yourself fidget in your place and you try to flash a small smile but your emotions betray you. What if you freaked him out? What he saw back there, what you did back there, that was you, the raw you. Behind all the layers of kind smiles and pleasantries, in many ways, you were no different than an animal, consumed by your predatory instincts. You wouldn't blame him if he never contacted you again after this. Shit, did you just fuck up everything?

 His presence fills the doorway, and you’re acutely aware of the tension between you two.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reply, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Thanks for asking.”

His eyes flicker down to your hand, then back up to meet yours. “How’s the hand?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

You hold it up and wiggle your fingers slightly. “It’ll heal. No big deal.”

Silence fills the void between you two and you clear your throat, searching for something to say to break the awkward silence, but he beats you to it.

“Mind if I come in?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans against the doorframe. “Or are you planning to keep all the fun out here in the hallway?”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Sure, come in. But I warn you, it’s a mess.”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” he quips, stepping inside. His eyes scan the room, taking in the organized chaos. Bandages and clothes are scattered around the floor and he doesn't miss the splatter of blood on the white sheets of the hotel bed. After a moment, Suguru turns around and takes a step closer to you, like he’s examining you. 

You tilt your head slightly, letting a smirk play on your lips. "So, now that I’ve won the bet, what do I get?"

He chuckles, the sound low and smooth, as he takes another step closer, closing the distance between you. "I was wondering when you’d bring that up." 

You arch an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure despite the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. "Well? I’m waiting. What’s my prize?"

Suguru stops just inches from you. "I don’t know," he quips, "What do you want?"

You let out a short laugh, though it’s clear you’re testing him now. "That’s a big question."

Suguru's eyes darken slightly, his playful demeanor shifting into something more serious, more intense. He leans in just a fraction, his breath warm against your skin. "Try me."

The tension between you two is palpable, electric. You’re the first to break the silence, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "I want," you pause, averting your gaze from Suguru’s hawkish one. “I want to know if I scared you.” The question slips out before you can stop it, your bravado faltering as doubt creeps in.

Suguru blinks, then a slow smile spreads across his face. "Scare me?" He repeats, as if the idea itself is laughable. He steps even closer, forcing you to take a step back until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. "Scare me?” He repeats again. “You didn’t scare me," he continues, his voice low and sincere. "You… captivated me. I have never, and I mean never, seen something so magnificent as what you did. And that's saying a lot because I've done a shit ton of magnificent things.”

You sit down on the bed, more out of necessity than choice, as he looms over you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel a mix of emotions—relief, curiosity, and something much more dangerous.

"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as he leans in, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in place.

He smiles, a slow, almost wicked grin that sends shivers down your spine. "Well, I thought I might kiss you now, you know, after telling you how magnificent you are.” He tilts his head. “Is that a bad idea?"

Your breath catches in your throat as the weight of his words sinks in. You forget to breathe.

You finally find your voice, though it’s a bit shakier than you’d like. "That depends…"

"On?" He asks, his face inching closer to yours, his gaze locked onto your lips.

"On how good you are at it," you murmur.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. Suguru closes the remaining distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s as intense as it is tender. It’s a slow, deliberate connection, his hands moving to cradle your face as if you’re something precious, something worth savoring.

The kiss deepens, and all the tension that had been building between you two finally snaps, leaving nothing but raw desire in its wake. You respond in kind, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as if you can’t get enough.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, and the world seems to have shrunk down to just the two of you in this moment. Suguru’s forehead rests against yours, and he smiles, a real, genuine smile that you can feel in your bones.

"So," he says, his voice husky and low. "How was that?"

You laugh softly, still trying to catch your breath. "Not bad," you admit, your fingers running through his black hair. "Not bad at all."

"Good," he replies, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a kiss. "Because I plan on doing it again."

Suguru’s lips are on yours again before you can even catch your breath, this time more insistent, more demanding. He’s not asking for permission anymore; he’s claiming what he wants, and it makes your head spin. The kiss deepens as his tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth with a slow, deliberate intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can taste him—warm, intoxicating—and you find yourself leaning into his lips, craving more.

His hand, warm and firm, slides down your side, tracing the curve of your waist before coming to rest between your thighs. The touch is electrifying, sending a jolt of sensation through you, and you gasp against his mouth, your heart pounding in your chest.

But it’s too much, too fast. Your mind races, and you instinctively pull back, breaking the kiss. “Wait,” you murmur, your voice breathless, “I dont know if we should….” You avert your gaze and turn your head toward the wall but Suguru grabs your chin, forcing you to look right into his hazel eyes. Then, he dips his head to whisper in your ear.

“Aw come one Y/n” He grazes your earlobe with his teeth. “I’ve been on my best behavior, a good boy,” Suguru pauses to deliver a soft kiss to your temple. “I've been waiting, waiting ever since I met you in that cage to do this. Don't I deserve a reward for my patience?” 

You thickly gulp as he rubs the sides of your neck with his lips.

“I’ve been-” He kisses your jaw. “Such a-” he kisses his way up to your mouth. “Good boy.”

You cave. 

As his words sink in, you feel your resolve crumbling, the weight of his desire pressing down on you in the most intoxicating way. Before you can even process what’s happening, Suguru's strong arms wrap around you, lifting you off the bed with effortless ease. His grip is firm but gentle, as if he's afraid of breaking you, and you can't help but let out a soft gasp as he lifts you off the bed and up so your head rests on the plush hotel pillow. His eyes lock onto yours, dark with intent, and you feel your breath hitch as the world narrows down to just the two of you. The room is filled with the sound of your breathing, heavy and uneven, mingling with the quiet rustle of sheets as he leans over you.

“I know you have been thinking about this too.” He coos. Suguru’s hands move with a deliberate slowness, as if savoring the moment. His fingers curl around the hem of your tank top, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to lift it. The cool air hits your skin as he pulls the fabric up and over your head, exposing you to his hungry gaze. But before you can feel self-conscious, his lips are on your newly exposed skin, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “Just so gorgeous.”

His hands are on your shorts next, tugging them down your hips with the same careful slowness, as if he’s unwrapping the most precious gift. As the fabric slips down your legs, he trails kisses along the newly exposed skin, his lips brushing against your thighs, your knees, your calves, until the shorts are discarded on the floor.

Now you’re lying before him in just your underwear, and the way he looks at you makes your heart pound. His eyes are dark and intense, filled with a hunger that makes your entire body flush with heat. “You’re gorgeous,” he repeats, his voice thick with emotion. “Just so damn gorgeous.”

Suguru straightens up slightly, his hands moving to the hem of his own shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside, revealing his bare chest. The sight of him makes your breath catch—his body is lean and athletic, muscles defined and sculpted from years of discipline and training. Tattoos cover his skin in an elaborate tapestry. He’s handsome, impossibly so, and the sight of him like this, just inches away, makes your pulse quicken.

He doesn’t stop there. His fingers move to the waistband of his sweatpants, and he slides them down, revealing more of his skin, his strong legs, until he’s kneeling before you in just his boxers. The fabric clings to him in a way that leaves little to the imagination, and you can’t help but stare, mesmerized by the sheer physicality of him.

Suguru catches your gaze, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Something catches your eye princess?”

You nod, “Yes. You. All of you.” Your eyes tracing every line and curve of his body. He’s more than just handsome—he’s breathtaking, a perfect combination of strength and beauty that leaves you feeling weak in the best way possible.

He leans down again, his body hovering over yours, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Good, wouldn't want you to be disappointed.”

With that, he captures your lips in a heated kiss, his hands trailing down your sides, touching, feeling, exploring. 

You are too lost in the kiss not to notice his hands slipping under your underwear and making their way to your dripping cunt, and when they do, you jump at the feeling of his index finger tracing your slit.

"Gotta get you ready baby.?" Suguru hums and you shake you head vigorously.

"No please Sugu~, I can take it."

You don't have to tell him twice.

In one fluid motion Suguru tears off your underwear, lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs.

"Been waiting to do this for so long," he murmurs as he pulls down his boxers and whips out his dick. You thickly gulp at the sight, you could've guessed he was big not this big, could he even fit in you? A white bead of precum dribbled from his pretty pink tip and down his length and he uses the liquid to stroke himself in a few fluid motions.

You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

"Suguru please~" You whine and nearly miss the way his ears go bright red at your words

"I know baby, I know. Don't worry, lift your hips for me love?”

You oblige and immediately when you do so you're struck with the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, you're cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Suguru let out a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you. 

“F-fuck I can feel you doing it to me,” he said hoarsely.

His fingers gently press into the skin of your hip, guiding and steadying you as he pulls back and thrusts into you. The sudden friction and collision with your G-spot knocks the wind out of your lungs. Ticklish pleasure courses through your veins and you immediately throw your head back against the wall as Suguru thrusts into you.

"Hnghh, s-so good~~" You whine. It was dizzying, the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up.

Simultaneously, his other hand sought yours, finding it with a purposeful tenderness. His fingers intertwined with yours, locking them together in a grip that was both a clasp and a caress.

You dont even realize that your eyes are closed until Suguru whispers into your ear.

“Come on baby, open those pretty eyes, look at me.”

You do as he says and when you do you feel your heart thud in your chest. Suguru’s eyes were fixated completely on you, how you were reacting, as his hips were continuously slamming into your body as if it were clockwork. The sight alone had your walls clamping down on him, earning a groan from the base of his chest. 

Suddenly, the hand that had been intertwined with yours released its grip and began to rummage through Suguru’s discarded pants. Your breath hitched, eyes glazed over as you watched him retrieve a knife from his pocket, unsheathing it effortlessly with a flick of his finger. The sharp glint of the blade caught your attention from beneath Suguru’s body, even as he continued thrusting into you, not missing a beat.

Your body reacted instinctively, clenching at the sight, drawing a low, dark chuckle from Suguru.

“Hah, I knew it,” he said, his voice laced with a teasing edge as he brought the cold steel to the base of your throat. “You’re just a slut for knives, aren’t you?”

A moan escaped your lips, the sound betraying any chance of denial. Suguru took it as an admission, pressing the blade firmly against the skin of your throat as he angled his hips to hit even deeper inside you. The cool metal at your throat was electrifying, but it was his other hand, strong and unyielding, that sent a euphoric thrill coursing through you. His fingers flexed, tightening around your neck, the pressure intensifying.

It wasn’t just the air being cut off—it was the dizzying, intoxicating pleasure that came with it. The way his grip constricted, pushing you to the edge of control, ignited something raw inside. Every squeeze of his hand made your body burn hotter, a perfect balance between pain and pleasure, leaving you gasping for more.

What a primal dirty sight you where, being choked with a blade against your throat while fucked brutaly. Even the devil would clutch his rosaries.  

"Were we doing it like this in your head baby?" Suguru grunts, his Adam apple bobs as he groans from the pleasure of how fucking heavenly your pussy feels. “Because we were doing it like this in mine.” Good? Try euphoric, how could he ever think his fist could substitute the wet squeeze of your cunt?

You can't even open your mouth to respond. The friction of his dick against your walls and the adrenaline from the knife is just too good and as his pace intensified, a dizzying warmth spread through you, filling every corner of your being with a euphoric haze. The sensation of being completely enveloped, utterly connected, sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through your body, making your eyes flutter and roll back slightly in sheer bliss. Every motion Suguru makes, every time his fat tip collides with your cervix, leaves behind a trail of sparkling heat that seems to light you from within.

"Come on eyes on me when I fuck you baby~" Suguru releases his hold from your neck and snakes his fingers between your body , finding your clit and pressing down on the pearl back and forth with the pad of index finger. "Tell me how good you feel, tell me how badly you want to cum.

He doesn’t slow the ministrations on your clit for a second as he snaps his hips into you with primal vigor, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

"So good Sugu!" You sob. You cant even open your eyes from the colors you're seeing behind your lids. Every time your pussy squeezes around him not only do bolts of pleasure shoot up your body but a ring of milky white cum forms around the base of his cock.

Suguru’s eyes are locked on how good you're taking him - the fat of his head has a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being. He lets out a sharp moan at how wet you are on the inside.

"S-shit baby wanna feel you cum on me, been waiting so long." Suguru is not a whining man but here he is practically stumbling over his words. Fuck, he wants to keep himself inside you forever. He wants your kisses, your skin, your touch, your blood, your lips, to be his to claim until you die together. No one has seen, truly seen him, before you. You are what he thinks about when he wakes up, when he is eating, when he is plunging his knife into some worthless monkey. You are his goddess. 

The world beyond this intimate cocoon of warmth and breath seemed distant, irrelevant. His gaze was locked with yours, deep and unwavering, a silent communication that tethered you through the mind numbing ecstasy.

Then, he reels his hips back and slams into you in a new angle that has your body jerking.

“Found it didn't I?” He breathes through a smile and pummels into you with vigor. And your about to disagree with him, insist that the feeling is too new and foreign to feel good when all of a sudden your body begins to shake and your head starts to feel fuzzy

And suddenly—you feel it. What you’ve been craving for and what you have seen in porn.

Its like all your body's energy centers are activating at once and your left utterly helpless to the feeling of tingling ecstasy wrapping your brain and stomach.

You dont know how to tell him that something is happening, not when the pleasure is too immense your barely breathing full breaths. But he understands once again the words you tried desperately to communicate.

“Do it baby. Cum. I’ll fill you up, and if it spills I'll fuck it back into you"

So you do.

Release washed over you in an all-encompassing wave, radiating out from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes. It swept through you like a storm, leaving a trail of starbursts in its wake. Your body arched instinctively, clinging to Suguru as the wave crested, then gently, slowly, began to ebb.

“Ah, princess, please,” he moaned. “Be a good girl and take it all, yeah?” 

Your fingers trailed up his shoulder, only to drag them back down his spine, nails biting into his skin as he buried himself deep inside you, releasing with a powerful shudder. His movements grew erratic, hips pressing yours firmly into the mattress as his hot breath skimmed across your neck, ragged and heavy.

The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, lost in each other, with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the feel of his touch to guide you.

The warmth of his cum spreads through your body with a shiver, and you can feel the liquid expanding against your walls while he kept you plugged and full of him. As you both floated back down from the heights of bliss, your breaths came easier, softer, the lingering aftershocks of pleasure pulsing gently through you.

"You're mine ok?" Suguru coos, and all you can do is dumbly nod.

"I'll die for you, I'll kill a thousand monkeys for you, i'll hold them down so you can cut our their eyes. Just stay by my side."

[konigsblog]

Pathetic!Konig with one of those insanely expensive real silicone dolls that he's had custom made to look very similar to his favourite little Darling. Practicing on his Doll so he can get it right with his Darling every single night.

Oh, he absolutely would.

He'd dress the customised and personalised doll in articles of your stolen clothing, usually worn and filthy pairs of panties that he's slobbered over and jerked off with, coated in strings of his milky and pearly semen. The doll is a perfect fit, with the exact dimensions and height. König will buy this doll expensive and pricey lingerie, fantasising that he has you in front of him, spread out and prepared to take his hung, sore cock for the first time. If you found out about his little perverted and twisted hobby, you'd shame and berate him for his audacity, be horrified and disgusted of the man you've grown to know and love. He knows it's disturbing, but he can't bring himself to put an end to his wicked and gross habits.

He eagerly checks his phone for notifications, searching for a message from you, eagerly waiting for a good morning message. You consume his every thought, plague his rotten mind. You haunt his every waking moment and the dreams he has, leading to him having a painfully stiff, leaking boner every single morning. He takes pictures of the sex doll in a plethora of different positions, grinding his hard length into the hole while murmuring your name drunkenly through strings of hoarse and guttural grumbles.

He plans everything out so meticulously and carefully, making sure that every detail has been throughout and prepared for. He just wants to practice on a doll before he finally has you. You know he's inexperienced, Mäuschen... He can't get you out of his head. :(

[sanemisstalker]

NSFW // KNY characters that are serial humpers. There's nothing they won't rub themselves on for just a small chance to get off.

CW: GN Reader/ Both Genitals reffered to/ specific CW will be before each character so you can peruse as you see fit.

Karaku

Object Of choice : Anything and Everything.

CW: Genital Mutilation (he gets curious, no scene), Dub-con/Non-con, Somnophilia.

-While I think all of the Clones have a bit of a problem keeping it to themselves, I think Karaku, being, you know, the pleasure clone, is most certainly a cum chaser.

-He can barely keep his hand out of his pants in public, all but physically refuses to hide his boners, and, worst of all, you can't keep underwear in one piece, on, or even around.

-This man is disgusting. The only difference between him and the others is that he's unabashed about it. You'd think the honesty would help, but it just doesn't. Not after he's torn through your last set of undergarments and now what?

-'So what? I don't wear anything- eh? What do you mean it's digusting?!'

-He's so proud about it too, it's almost disheartening.

-Is not gentle with his dick. It can just regrow, I'm sure he's done- awful things to it.

-I think that pleasure thing comes at a cost. It's a signifier of Hantengu's lack of impulse control. Karaku probably can't stop himself, even if he wants to, which he never would because lusting is his only purpose.

-Everything is made to read as innately sexual to him- doesn't matter if it's your fist or a cheese grater- He's experimental with his nerves to a self destructive degree.

-'I didn't intend to cut it off- no! I saw a photo of a man that flayed it o- Hey! It's not that bad! Just liste- It'll fix itself soon!'

-I don't know what else He'd do other than jack off, or try and convince the other clones to jack off. I don't think he has- hobbies?

-Definitely tries to hump you in your sleep. If you don't wake up to him jerking off, you're waking up to him trying to slip between your thighs.

-'I just got horny- no no- just go back t- hey, no, you're not allowed to leave? Come back! Y/N!'

Aizetsu

Object of Choice : Your thigh

CW: Severe Depression / BDSM Dynamics (Severe degradation, both self and inflicted) (Aizetsu receiving)

-What a miserable fuck, he doesn't know what to do with himself half the time, so when he gets horny he just cries and begs.

-He's a manifestation of every awful thought Hantengu ever had in that big ol' head of his. Aizetsu just drips with the most gut wrenching, vomit inducing level of self-hatred you've ever seen anytime you're intimate.

-you begin to wonder if being talked down to appeals to him more than he'd like to admit.

-He's like a dog when he asks, because, at the end of the day, he's still Hantengu, a selfish bastard who self serves. Aizetsu just doesn't have the joy receptors for it- his nerves jump at the bud for any impulse they can fufill.

-When you let him ride your thigh, because he's pathetic, and he looked so... him asking, it became his favourite thing. Ever.

-When you two are alone, he'll just beg for it out loud. He has no self respect. So much shame that he'll never conquer.

-'Please, please- Y/N- I- I'll do whatever you want me to. You're the only person I can do this with, they'll all- laugh at me- please please- I'm sorry, I know, I'm- God I'm worthless- I can't do anything in return, nothing will be good enough-'

-he's practically jerking himself off on your calve as he spews his self hate. You might as well give in.

-When you're infront of the other clones, he'll tug at the edge of whatever you're wearing. They all toss him hauty looks. They're disgusted by him, too. He likes humping your thigh more than his dignity infront of his fellow cluster, I guess.

-Maybe he's... a bit of a.... a lot of a masochist. You stare at him like he's dirt, there. He's a grown man humping your thigh- drool spilling out of his mouth.

-'I'm- I'm sorry I- oh god- please don't hate me- please don't hate me- please please-'

-'You're pathetic. You can't make me cum, but you have no problem mak- did you just cum again? Are you cumming right now? In your pants?... Are you serious?'

-You could easily have him wailing in minutes, maybe even seconds if you hit the right nerve. And the whole time he'll just be thrusting away, chasing his own pleasure against your skin because that's all he knows how to do.

-Push him off right as he's cumming and ruin his orgasm, he doesn't deserve to feel good (The abuse will just make him cum harder)

Kaigaku

Object Of Choice: You.

CW: Mention of Trad Wives

-Listen, I know we have a lot of Kaigaku haters in the crowd. I, however, see a man with a choker, and I see a potential slut. Give him his moment.

-I think Kaigaku would be a very selfish lover, obviously, but I don't think this is in natural capacity for him. I think he's like, brainwashed by societies standards of what attracts him, especially in a relationship.

-You know when you see a 'sigma' guy that's really upset his trad wife who he specifically picked out for being trad won't do anal? That's Kaigaku.

-So he's really, really upset when you won't put out.

-You see a chance, though. A chance for a life lesson.

-Kaigaku is allowed to fuck you... just not really fuck you. He's allowed to use your hand. He's allowed to use your thighs. He can rut in between your pussy lips/ up and down your shaft-

-He is not allowed in you. And it lights him up.

-'Thats a stupid rule! You think I'm not enough? Are you fucking someone else? Are you making fun of me?!' He'd probably try to insight a screaming match for a week, but you just won't give in-

-Fine. Whatever. He just won't touch you, won't talk to you- won't-

-The first time Kaigaku slides in between your thighs, he swears he sees stars. It'd been weeks... probably the longest he's ever held off on an impulse. Hadn't jerked off either, He'd been too pissed.

-Its there, in that little space between your sex and the top of your thighs, that Kaigaku finds God. At least he thinks it's god. It's got to be. He's never cum so hard in his life.

-Kaigaku becomes almost... willingly obedient. He continues to pretend he's so inconvenienced by the whole thing, but then he's sliding into your fist, and the world is just sliding away.

-I have a very specific image of standing infront of him, and him trying to angle his dick to slide in your underwear. He's really awkward, and he's struggling to stay upright because he's got to bend his knees to meet your cunt/cock- and it's just not working, but that's the only way you'd let him get off on you that day-

-It like, kind of gives me the ick thinking about him doing it, but also like- Aw? He'll literally do anything to get off now? You broke him?

-'I can't- it- it's too hard-' He'd mumble, voice sounding particularly defeated. 'I just- I want to cum-'

-'Too bad.' You'd go to walk away, and He'd jerk off on the floor, pissed as hell. He wouldn't be able to cum and that'd just make him angrier, because now he has to go beg his partner, who he's whipped for, to please let him use their pussy/dick again-

-He's like, never been this needy before, though. He's not supposed to want to chase you. He's supposed to have people throwing themselves at him- It's kind of... exciting, to be denied.

-You know, guys that whimper are really cool, but idk, I think Kaigaku's a whiner. I think he whines and groans and it's really unsightly but??? There's something so appealing about it? Like, he's so big and strong and his ego is so inflated, and he's just toppling for you?

Enmu

Object of Choice : Your pillow

CW: Enmu / Crossing of explicit sexual boundaries.

-Listen, he's not right in the head. Enmu never claimed to be right in the head, either, but he's particularly fond of cumming on your pillow. Not just humping it, cumming on it. He doesn't really know why either.

-'It just feels right, I think.' He'd reason.

-'Do you want to- cum in my hair? On my face-'

'No, I want to cum on your pillow. It's where you sleep.' Thats the only explanation you get from him. He cannot articulate anymore.

-He doesn't even think about it when he's doing it. He's just got one leg hiked up on the bed, a thumb pressing the head of his cock into the plush, and he's just thrusting- almost blind.

-He doesn't ever remember the build up to getting there, or what in his brain is satisfied by doing this, but if he doesn't do it, something... off will happen, he's sure.

-You catch him, one day. You thought he was just cumming on it- no, he's got his full weight in his pelvis, pitching his hips forward with all his might. You didn't even know Enmu could physically do such a thing.

-He's not weak, obviously. He's a demon, but you all rarely have sex where he's the one leading, so it's a bit of a shock to watch him be so... rough with the fabric.

-He's almost in a trance, it's kind of scary, until he cums, and he covers his mouth with both hands, and his hole body shakes. The fucker knows he has to keep this silent...

-Maybe you're...Maybe you're not right in the head either, because you really, really want to be that pillow.

This might have a part 2, because i think Mitsuri would be prone to this.

[letmesniffurdaddysfeet]

Weekend Lessons with daddy John PART 1

John, my mysterious neighbor, was a man shrouded in age and secrets. Though I never dared to inquire about his past, I estimated him to be around 65 years old. From the moment I moved in next door, he welcomed me with open arms and a warm smile. Despite our significant age difference - I was only 21 at the time - I found myself eagerly seeking out his company. John was a skilled handyman, passing on his knowledge of electricity, plumbing, and DIY projects to me with infinite patience. It may seem odd for a young adult like myself, but each week I looked forward more to spending an evening with John than going out for after-work drinks with my colleagues.

There was something about John that fascinated me - he wasn't particularly muscular or physically imposing, but there was a ruggedness to him that exuded masculinity. He embodied the classic image of a man's man - simple yet capable, full of practical knowledge that I had never learned before. But what captivated me most were his feet. Every Friday night, as we sat together watching a replay of a baseball game and sipping on cold beers, John would kick off his slippers and rest his large, mature feet on the coffee table in front of us.

It started innocently enough - just admiring the feet of a strong, masculine man. But as the weeks went by, my fascination turned into something else entirely. With each passing Friday night, it became harder and harder for me to resist the forbidden desires stirring inside of me. I tried to push them away, telling myself that it was wrong and dirty to feel this way towards someone much older than me.

But one fateful night, as I lay in bed alone with my thoughts, I gave in to my sinful desires and indulged in a forbidden act of self-pleasure while thinking about John's feet. The pleasure that consumed me was unlike anything I had ever experienced before, a heady mix of taboo and desire that left me both intoxicated and guilty.

From that night on, John's feet became an obsession for me. I couldn't resist stealing glances at them whenever we were together, imagining the feel of them against my lips and tongue. And each time I succumbed to these thoughts, the intensity of pleasure only grew stronger, driving me towards a dangerous edge that I could not escape from.

Despite my attempts to distance myself from these thoughts, they consumed me. I tried to distract myself with work, hobbies, and even dating other people, but nothing seemed to quell the burning desire I had for John's feet.

But one evening, I couldn't resist my insatiable desire… As we sat on the sofa, John's relaxed form radiating a familiar comfort, I chugged back another beer to calm my racing heart. Suddenly, his shoes were off and his toes were wriggling in front of me as he talked about the game. I couldn't help but feign interest in a coin that supposedly fell on the other side of the table. My hand brushed against his foot and I knelt down, pretending to search for the nonexistent coin in the thick carpet fibers as my face stealthily drew closer to his feet. The overpowering scent of masculinity hit me like a wave and my body reacted immediately, my pants stretching with the growing hardness between my legs. Every touch from his toes sent shivers through my body, pushing me deeper into a forbidden pleasure that consumed me completely.

My mind raced with a torrent of emotions and desires as I lingered there, my breath hot against John's coarse, calloused skin. I had never felt anything like this before - a mixture of exhilaration, shame, and unbridled lust coursing through my veins. I knew I was playing with fire, but I couldn't help myself.

A surge of shame and self-loathing washes over me as I realize the gravity of my actions. I pray that my arousal is not too obvious , ready to feign ignorance and confess to not finding the coin. But when I meet John's gaze, a new expression crosses his face - an excited smile, his hand resting on his visibly erect penis. Did he understand the true intention behind my gesture? And did the sight of my face so close to his feet elicit the same response in him as it did in me? My mind spins with confusion and desire, rendering me speechless and creating a tense silence that begs to be broken… I struggle to find the right words, while secretly yearning to ask him if he desires to see me throw myself at his feet as well…

It was finally John who broke the silence, saying these words: ''Are you sure you looked carefully? It would be a shame not to reject a glance." He looked me straight in the eyes, without leaving his mischievous smile, wiggling his toes… my eyes rested on those feet and the spark of excitement in the John's eyes twinkled brighter. It was at that moment that I realized that this was a formal invitation, and I was not going to wait another second to respond.

John's voice cut through the tense silence like a knife, his words dripping with challenge and mischievous thrill ''Did you even bother to look closely? Don't tell me you missed it." His gaze locked onto mine, a sly grin playing on his lips as he wiggled his toes in anticipation…my eyes couldn't help but trail down to those feet, and I saw the unmistakable glimmer of mischief in John's eyes. It hit me like a bolt of lightning - this wasn't just an invitation, it was a dare. And I refused to waste another second before responding, the fire of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

[itsnathateasy]

aot characters reacting to “i read about us in tarot”

warnings: none word count: 3,1k includes: armin, jean, connie, hange, mikasa, erwin a/n: sometimes, all you need is a confirmation from the universe, right?

“Pass me the sugar, please?” Armin asked in his polite tone. This was your third date with him and your bond and chemistry kept getting better and better. “Here you go! So, what were you saying about that new theatre show?” you questioned as you handed him the sugar bowl. He added two table spoons of sugar in his tea, stirring it thoroughly while maintaining eye contact with you. “I almost forgot! It’s an adaptation of the little prince but with dancing! Should be so much fun! Do you maybe wanna go with me?” you couldn’t keep your smile from spreading across your face as Armin suggested that you go on one more date. “Sounds great actually! I’d love to go!” you said, extending your hand to connect it with his over the table. Armin returned the gesture, softly rubbing circles with his thumb on your outer palm. “You know, it’s so weird. We’ve known each other for ages, yet I never imagined we’d be getting along so well together romantically, you know?” he admitted with a small, almost shy smile. “Okay, don’t mock me, but I kind of had a sign...” you said awkwardly. “What kind of a sign?” he arched his eyebrow at you, now holding your palm in both of his as you giggled with the confession you were about to make. “You know how Historia reads tarot?” if Armin could arch his eyebrow any more, he definitely would. “Do go on” he said in an intrigued voice. “Well, she read that there’s a fair man in my life – this was just after our first date – and she found out that he is very interested in me but it’d be more and more obvious as time progresses” you trailed off with your recollections of the tarot reading, patiently waiting for Armin’s reaction. Armin huffed in fake annoyance. “Well, that checks out. Historia kept mentioning that “fair man” that was oh so interested in you, I had to ask you out on a second date as soon as possible! Couldn’t risk it!” You laughed in unison, finding it cute how your mutual friend had read about the two of you in a deck of cards. After a while, Armin returned to the topic. “Hey, y/n… Had you ever told Historia about crushing on me?” You were taken aback. “Of course! Historia knew about you from the start. What’s wrong with that?” Armin’s eyebrows were furrowed. “Nothing wrong, just thinking. Cause I’d told her about crushing on you too...” “You’re not insinuating she planned this?” You asked, surprised that you’d ever come to such a conclusion. “Insinuating, no. I’m blatantly stating it. The little lady set us up!” (“Are you upset Historia set us up?” “Honestly, this was the best thing she’s ever done, y/n” he said and kissed your temple.)

Jean doesn’t believe in tarot and he’s made it his life mission to convince you as well. To him, it was a shame that an educated and well-informed person as you would ever resort to reading tarot. “What’s wrong with it, Jean? Even if it isn’t true – which it very much is – haven’t you read about all the cognitive benefits of picking up such a hobby? Can you even imagine the amount of brand new synaspes my brain is creating?” He simply looked back at you, one eyebrow raised, refraining from responding. “It means I’m actively getting smarter and all you do is talk down on my new skill. Will you let me practice on you now or are you going to keep on glooming about getting your cards read?” You said, only half annoyed. “Fine, y/n… Do go on. I want my cards read” you giggled at his surrender. As you were turning upwards the cards he’d picked out, Jean was observing you, your swift movements, how your irises grew wider with each symbol you recognised. “You’ve been dealt quite the cards Jean. Let me check the manual once more” you said, shuffling through the pages. “Still haven’t got the hang of it? What about your synapses?” He said and chuckled at you, still not averting his gaze from you. “With these many cards, it’ll take me a while… Look, you’ve got the lovers. A deep connection and unity between two people… And the two of cups! Mutual love and – possibly – soulmates? Whoa Jean! I’m assuming you’ve confessed to Mikasa, right?” You noticed how his face changed into the most surprised expression you’d ever seen. Furrowing his eyebrows, he opened his mouth once to speak, but said nothing. After a few seconds, while you were trying your hardest to read his face, he finally spoke again. “Uhm, y/n, why would I confess to Mikasa? I’ve literally nothing to say to her, except for maybe small talk at parties.” It was now your turn to be surprised by his response. “You’re not for real, Jean. Everybody knows you like her! The cards said so too!” You said and motioned to the spread cards laying between the both of you on the table. “Y/n...” he said and rubbed his hand all over his face, finally resting it in a fist on his chin, partially covering his mouth. “You’ve got this whole thing wrong, y/n” “How have I got it wrong? You’ve asked her out in the past and she rejected you?” Jean was facepalming so hard at your question. After taking a breath or two, he finally sat up properly and faced you, body completely aligned with yours. “Y/n, all these cards I pulled... Not a single one of them is referring to Mikasa. And this one – the two of cups, was it? - I was about to ask you out. That’s the new relationship, hopefully.” He said as he pointed at the vibrant card in front of him. “I was just… Waiting for the right moment… Didn’t wanna blurt it all out of nowhere… It sucks that you think that this whole time I’ve had my eye on Mikasa, cause it’s far from the truth.” Jean’s confession was unexpected, but more than welcome. “Jean… Honestly PHEW!” You said in a loud voice, sweeping invisible sweat from your forehead with a dramatic move. “Phew as in…?” He questioned, not quite catching your drift yet. “Phew because… I’ve had MY eye on you for who knows how long… I never initiated anything cause I thought you had things going on with Mikasa. I’m relieved to find out this isn’t the case.” You looked over at him, a serene smile was plastered on his face, his hand extending to reach yours. “So… Wanna go out some time?”

“Shouldn’t have done that, y/n sweetheart” Connie said as he laid his reverse card on the pile between you on the couch. “Ugh, how come you always get me so bad? Uno’s supposed to be my turf...” you exhaled, disappointed by the fact that you had to draw more cards. “And with this” Connie said playing one more card “I’m out! I’ve officially defeated your sorry ass!” Connie celebrated his victory by triumphantly marching all around your coffee table, hands in the air. “I can never catch a break with you” you protested, letting your weight fall on the back of the couch. Connie noticed how you were not celebrating along with him (his audacity is immeasurable) and quit his marching to crouch next to you. “Hey, hey… No need to feel sad. It’s a compliment to have the best uno player as your boyfriend!” he explained, softly poking your cheek with his index finger over and over again. “Cut it out!” you yelled, laughing at him while trying to push his hand away. “And… Consider this: Whoever loses in card games, wins in love. Isn’t this what they say?” He questioned, waiting for your response as he was now poking your belly with both of his indexes. “Speaking of which” you said in between fits of laughter, attempting to escape him by moving further away on the couch. “I think I read about you in tarot, but like… A few weeks before we started dating”. Thankfully, your statement intrigued him enough to get him to stop his relentless poking. “Seriously? Had we met yet?” “No, not yet. It was a few weeks before Sasha introduced me to you. But I’d seen photos of you so I don’t know, I may’ve been biased by your cute face!” You said and gave him a bright smile, but Connie only stood up from his spot to scream at the top of his lungs “NO SHIT BECAUSE I READ ABOUT YOU TOO!”. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. “What are you talking about, Connie?” “Okay, listen” he said and sat back next to you again. “The week before we met, I was so tired of Jean and Sasha bugging me about not wanting to meet any of Sasha’s friends – I didn’t know about you yet, I’m sorry babe – and so we all went to this fortune teller, who told us all about you and our date and, wait, REMEMBER WHEN YOU SPRAINED YOUR ANKLE ON THE WAY HOME FROM OUR FIRST DATE? SHE’D TOLD US ABOUT THAT AS WELL AND THEN I TOLD JEAN AND SASHA AND THEY SAID I’D MADE IT UP AND DIDN’T BELIEVE ME UNTIL MOVIE NIGHT A FEW DAYS LATER AND-” “CONNIE CALM DOWN!” You half yelled, while giggling the entire time. “Please, take a breath, you’re giving me a headache!” Eventually, he did calm down, and sat on top of you. “So… Reckon we were meant to be?” he snuggled his face closer to yours, sneaking small pecks here and there. “No, you were meant to be and I was meant to keep losing to you in card games!” You exclaimed in fake annoyance. “NOW YOU DON’T MEAN THAT Y/N!”

“And what do you think this means, Hange?” you questioned the brunette as they drew one more card out of the deck. “Wait, let me check… I’m still new to this tarot thing...” As they browsed through the deck manual, the corner of their tongue was pursed between their lips. “So, y/n, you got the hanged man… Or woman… This deck assumes everyone’s gender I guess...” “Hange… You’re trailing off” you said and giggled as they returned your gaze. “I’m just saying, y/n. You can’t just assume people’s gender or their sexuality, it’s not right”. They looked kind of disappointed as their eyes skimmed the page referring to the hanged man. “I know Hange, but I came here so you could practice tarot, remember?” “Alright, alright” they surrendered. “So, as I was saying, the hanged PERSON” - you couldn’t hold back your giggle – is all all about sacrifice, new perspectives... waiting for the right time… But that’s boring y/n… I suggest that you screw the right time, and go for it instead. And as the great Herman Melville said “He who hesitates is lost”. Or she. OR THEY!” Hange threw their hands up in frustration, letting the manual off of their hands. “Are you quoting Herman Melville or Lemony Snicket? You’re confusing me!” You both laughed at your comment, Hange touching her stomach in an attempt to contain themselves. “Either way, y/n… You know, tarot is really fun, but more often than not, waiting for the right time is pointless. The right time never comes and one’s never ready. I don’t know what this stalling refers to in your life, but it kept coming up in your reading. If there’s a situation where you need to take action, just do it. And when you do, call me up so you can spill the tea, you know?” Hange stretched their palms on the table, collecting the cards you’d both pulled out of the deck and tidying them into a neat brick, before enclosing the deck in its colourful paper box again. Once they’d put everything away, your mind was made up. “Okay Hange. So, enough with the stalling, right?” “It’s the best advice I can come up with, y/n. And as your only and BEST fortune-teller slash advisor slash best friend, I do suggest you act upon… Whatever you need to act upon.” They said as they put the deck back into their bag. “Okay, listen” you said and inhaled deeply. “Y/n… Is something wrong?” “No, no, just… Listen, okay? Don’t ask me how I know but I know you like me and I like you too and do you wanna go on a date sometime?” You blurted in a single breath as Hange was left frozen opposite you on the table. “I can’t believe Levi spilled the beans, oh he’s in for a real treat!” they said, clenching their fists. “Is that a yes or a no, Hange?” You insisted, eyes steadily focused on them, pulling them back to reality. “It’s a yes, y/n, of course it’s a yes. Can the date be punch-a-bag? Cause Levi’s asking for a beating!” “Okay, but wear something nice? I’ve made reservations at a restaurant” you explained while getting up to make your leave. “How did you know I was gonna say yes? And where are you going?” “Gotta warn Levi! See ya!” you waved goodbye and made your way out before Hange could stop you.

“Please tell me this is a joke, y/n” Mikasa sighed as she averted her gaze from your phone screen to you. She’d already had enough of your teasing today and you trying to explain how your friend Historia had predicted Mikasa and you would end up together was the final drop. “You never take me seriously, Mikasa… This reading was so OBVIOUSLY about you, I HAD to film it for this exact occasion! Just listen to how Historia mentions that “Mikasa will never believe this, even if you show her after it happens”… You can’t tell me the reading isn’t accurate!” You pouted, hoping that Mikasa would come around and admit to your friend’s tarot reading skills. “It doesn’t matter if it’s accurate, y/n, cause it’s not real! You can’t be serious about basing our entire relationship on a deck of fancy cards?” You taken aback by her comment and felt like your hurt showed. The reading Historia had given you all those months ago was what fuelled you to - finally - ask Mikasa out. “Hey, y/n, I… I didn’t mean to upset you...” She reached for your arm, but you pulled away. Collecting your thoughts as best as you could, you eventually managed to speak. “Those fancy cards gave me the confirmation I needed to pursue you at the time. You were always so distant, I never knew what you were thinking. But everything that Historia told me, gave me the boost to ask you out...” You sneaked a peek at Mikasa, who was now also wearing her mouth upside down and lingering akwardly back and forth. “Besides, you said it yourself. You never wanted to cause trouble in our friend group and had no intention of asking me out, even though you liked me. So, yeah, those fancy cards were a big deal. And the video you wasted so much time shitting on was the match that started the fire. Blame me for believing in the occult I guess, but don’t say our entire relationship has been based on a lie, cause it was that “lie” that started it all...” Mikasa waited, unsure of how to respond to your speech. “The only right thing to say is I’m sorry, y/n. I was insensitive. This was clearly important to you… Can we conclude this fight now and watch the rest of the video? I think Historia was about to explain something I’d do on our first date” She trailed off shyly. Your lips perked up just a tiny bit, and that was all the answer Mikasa needed as you scooted closer to her on the couch. As she wrapped her arm around you she spoke again. “Actually, y/n, play it from the start. I should pay proper attention to the reading this time!”

Folding his paper in half and softly laying it on the kitchen table was your cue that you were in trouble. “You did… What exactly? I didn’t quite catch that, y/n” Your breath hitched as you moved further from the sink and closer to him. His look was as serious as ever, arms folded on his chest, unmoving. “It wasn’t even too expensive, Erwin! Come on, don’t dwell on the past! It’s long gone now!” You tried to make a plausible excuse for yourself, but to no avail. “Uh uh, that’s not what you said. You said you spent a hundred dollars on a tarot reading, because you weren’t sure I’d propose.” He gave you a serious look, pinching his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. “How could you not be certain? Have I ever let you doubt my intentions towards you, y/n?” Damn, this was going to end badly, you could feel his anger brewing. “You don’t understand, Historia is a genius! She even predicted we’d have a daughter before I knew it! How did you think I knew to buy a pregnancy test on our holiday?” The way his eyes grew wider at this confession was a sight, to say the least. “Uhm, your period skipping two months maybe?” “ERWIN!! It was summer time! That... Can happen... From time to time!” “I’m gonna hold your hand as I say this, y/n, but, at the time, we were having unprotected sex for a least three months because we were consciously trying for a baby.” He gave you one more of his serious glares, tilting his head a bit forward. “I’m just a girl, Erwin! You can’t blame me for wanting to make sure!” You explained as you crossed the distance between you and sat on his lap. Maybe this would prevent him getting too mad at you. He exhaled deeply as he stared at you between his arms. You knew he was judging you so much by the stern look on his face. Unfolding his paper and resuming his reading, he continued. “It’s a good thing you didn’t charge it on my card... If I saw those withdrawals without a single warning, I’d have called the bank to pause the card.” He flattened the paper with a shaking sound. You fidgeted with your fingers without realising it, but Erwin caught the gesture. “Y/n… You didn’t...” “I’M JUST A GIRL ERWIN! And a girl needs to know!”

[thatgentlewife]

Get to know me 🌸

Hi there! Here’s my get to know me,

I’m 20 years old, and happily married as of November 2024. I love Jesus, (and he loves you too!) I have very traditional values that reflect themselves in my mental, physical, spiritual, and sexual life. I’m holistic-ish. I used to be a feminist, not anymore. I try to live life cleanly, but as affordable as possible. I serve God before anything. Secondly, I serve my husband above all other people.

THIS BLOG IS ANTI-ABORTION I believe abortion is murder because life begins at conception. From the moment of fertilization, a baby has its own DNA, completely unique and separate from the mother’s. That’s a human life, and taking it is no different than taking the life of someone outside the womb. To me, the unborn child is not just “a clump of cells” or a part of the mother’s body—it’s a separate, living person with the same right to life as anyone else.

I also believe this because of my faith in God. The Bible says that we’re all made in the image of God, and in Psalm 139, it talks about how God knits us together in the womb, knowing us before we’re even born. Life is sacred to Him, and abortion is going against His design and plan. It’s heartbreaking to think of a life, one that God has already given purpose and value to, being taken away before it even gets a chance.

That’s why I’m anti-abortion. I understand that many women who choose abortion are scared or feel hopeless. I don’t think condemning them is the answer—I want to see people stepping in with support, resources, and love to help them through those hard times. Adoption, crisis pregnancy centers, and community support are such powerful ways to give these women and their babies a future.

At the end of the day, I believe every single human life is valuable, no matter how small or how inconvenient it might seem to the world. Standing up for the unborn is standing up for those who can’t speak for themselves, and it’s about honoring the sanctity of life, as God intended.

THIS BLOG IS ANTI-PORN I believe pornography is destructive to individuals, relationships, and society as a whole. It promotes unrealistic expectations of intimacy, which damages trust and erodes the foundation of healthy relationships. Porn also encourages people to objectify and devalue others, making it harder to see each person as someone with inherent dignity. Beyond that, it’s addictive, harming mental health, fostering shame, and isolating people. It promotes a culture that celebrates consequence-free, casual sex, which weakens values like self-control, chastity, and commitment—values that are central to strong families and communities. I’m especially concerned about how easily kids are exposed to porn, warping their understanding of sex and relationships at a young age. Spiritually, it tempts people away from a life aligned with God’s will and replaces real love with emptiness.

THIS BLOG DOES NOT SUPPORT DOMESTIC DISCIPLINE Domestic discipline, often involving corporal punishment of a spouse, is considered unbiblical by many because it contradicts the core Christian principles of love, respect, and mutual submission in marriage. The Bible emphasizes forgiveness and reconciliation rather than punishment, suggesting that such practices are abusive and not reflective of Christ's teachings.

FYI, I personally don’t believe men can be women or that women can be men. I do not agree with the LGBTQ lifestyle, you will not find me in support of that in this blog. I have nothing against people who choose to live this way. You are a valuable human being just like the rest of us. I just believe marriage is between a biological man and biological a woman created by God. If you don’t agree with this, this probably isn’t the blog for you.

However! The traditional lifestyle is something that should be accessible for all sexes and races. I don’t think it should be just limited to one sex or race.

My hobbies and interest include:

• Cooking (I wanted to be a chef but I am too soft for the food industry)

• Taking care of children (I work in childcare)

• Reading (My favorite book is the Phantom Tolbooth!)

• Writing poetry and songs

• Drawing (I’m not good I just love to do it)

• I love to make soap, lotion, and tinctures

• Educating myself on non toxic living

• Being a good and submissive wife

My goal on this blog is to post about how my young traditional marriage is going. What is working, what isn’t, what might work for you. Etc etc. Feel free to stay along for the ride!

With love,

thatgentlewife

[leviathanleva]

Cujo

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Supersoldier!FemReader

Description: A monster in human skin, a weapon disguised as a person, no thoughts, no emotion, as per design. He despises you and everything you stand for. He’s tried to kick you out of his squad and failed, he’s made it his mission to break you no matter the cost.

It comes as a surprise when he asks you to lie and say you love him.

[5k words]

[Angst, Smut, MDNI]

Chapter 5 "Meringue Kisses"

Late that night, you’re skulking some distance from his door, hidden in the shadows and only occasionally the moon cruelly reveals your habitation.

A bottle of bourbon is nestled under your armpit, a peace offering after having left his heavy words hanging in the small infirmary room you’d been stationed in. Cruelty was something you’d been taught to bestow upon enemies but was forbidden towards comrades. Technically you were going against your orders by just walking away.

But wasn’t it also cruel to lie and let a dear one live an illusion?

He’d stayed by your bedside the entire time, you knew, you could smell him alongside the orchids he replaced every day. It could be viewed as either sweet or obsessive, but he’d been there for you and the least you could do was apologize for bailing on him.

But what was one supposed to say in such a situation?

“I’m sorry for ignoring your advances and walking out on you when you basically confessed your love?”

You weren’t trained for such a situation. You were a battering ram, not a love counselor. Yet out of everyone, Ghost sought you out for comfort, somehow found solace in your presence and the more he did the more that small guilty spark in your chest grew and you couldn’t take it anymore.

You trudge forward, abandoning your shadow-soaked post, and knock on his door before reason has a chance to pull you away.

Simon answers silently, you hear only his lazy heartbeat and then the lock click before he’s standing in front of you clad in a pair of baggy sweatpants and a tee far too tight for his bulk. Alcohol is pungent on his breath, it invades your nostrils even through his mask. Besides that, the bloodshot eyes that are barely open and the slumped shoulders tell you a sad story you doubt he wanted anyone to see.

A frown tries to form on your lips at the wreck he portrays, but you will it away. Instead, you blink up at him and thrust the bourbon bottle high in the air, practically in his face.

You’re facing away now, embarrassed by your stingy excuse for an apology, but you didn’t know what else to do. The Lieutenant didn’t have many hobbies you could add to. You couldn’t buy him a new book or a knitting set, a puzzle or…anything really.

He gingerly takes it from your hand, thick fingers wrapping around the base and making the one liter of poison and glass look like a small water bottle.

You take him in fully then – the callouses, one too many for a man of his age, the scars on his exposed arms, the little blond hairs that gleam in the moonlight because it’s so late that most lights at base are off, the bare feet and small strands of light brown that stick out from under his mask because he’d slipped it on in a hurry.

It was a cold night, colder than most, you noted the way his inked skin blossomed into goosebumps.

“I’m sorry.” You force the words out instead of contemplating them, take a step forward instead of turning away to leave.

That had been the initial plan, gift him the bourbon and leave. His mental instability wasn’t your duty to tend, plus you were technically under his command. He was supposed to take care of you, not the other way around.

But he looked pathetic past the usual stoicism. You’d risked your life for him, it would be a shame to have pulled him out of death’s way only for him to drink himself to unconsciousness because of a stupid unrequited crush. You were doing him a favor, just making sure he was alright, nothing more. As a good soldier, you had to show sympathy towards comrades.

So when he leaves the door open and retreats back into his quarters, you follow him with a small sigh.

“Don’ need to be sorry for nothen’.” You hear him rasp somewhere in front of you in a voice like sandpaper.

The room is musty, the air is stale, and the only reason it’s tidy is because he has almost no belongings. In a way, it reminds you of your own room. It’s sad, maybe you should have gifted him a small plant to keep him company on the long nights he spends cooped up in here and unable to sleep.

Maybe you shouldn’t be here at all…

“To hell with it” You think bitterly. Enough hesitation, this was unlike you.

No lights are on, and shadows cluster around the bench press and the wardrobe, which you’re sure barely holds any clothes aside from tactical gear. You understand his dislike for the light. It would put his misery on display and might welcome unwanted visitors. He didn’t want any company or for his woes to be visible.

You can relate, in a way you do the same. The light is too blinding, holds none of your secrets.

You wait for him to set the bottle down next to the half-empty one on his coffee table, then you speak.

“I want to see your face.” The words flow past your tongue like silk, it surprises both of you, how soft your tone had become, as if you were afraid of waking up someone, maybe your sense of wrongness, because this was in fact wrong to be here with him and ask for such things. “Then I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

It wasn’t a lie. You were willing to make a deal if only to make him happy.

Since Simon refused to simply order you to sleep with him, you’d found another way to grant his wishes with hopefully minimum guilt on his end.

You’d do as he asked despite how unprofessional it was. Fraternizing was frowned upon, especially between two soldiers of the same squad. You swallowed your sense of loyalty to your superiors, gave a big “fuck you” to the rules and orders.

It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but it was something you’d hastily strung together while on your way here. You’d debated whether you’d even bring it up because it might add more salt to the wound, but it was too late now.

Seeing him like this was…uncomfortable. You wouldn’t stand for it.

Ghost was the only one who showed you kindness, who believed there was still something human living somewhere in the depths of your mind. He deserved you, deserved the world.

And you believe in him, had faith that if you still beheld emotions, he’d find a way to dig them out and you’d let him keep them for himself.

And if nothing came out of this, then you’d at least tried. You were fine with both options, but he wasn’t and as long as he wasn’t satisfied you’d bend over backwards to find an alternative.

Anything for him…

“Love me for a night.” He says, pleads and steps closer to you, so close your breaths mingle. There are no warnings that what resides behind the mask isn’t pretty, there’s no pushback against your part of the bargain. He’s already laid himself bare before you, the mask had been pulled off a while ago.

“You know I c – ” You begin, but he cuts you off shortly.

“ – Then lie.”

He’s already pulling his balaclava off when you nod in silent agreement. Despite your compliance for once, he still looks exhausted, utterly drained to the bone.

You’d expected more excitement on his part, but this would do just fine.

You see the rugged features and battle scars, the light stubble and slightly crooked nose briefly before he’s kneeling in front of you. He presses his forehead against your belly, wraps his meaty arms around your thighs and pulls you close enough to bury his nose in your top and inhale deeply.

“Jus’ lie t’ me, ye?”

You rest your hands on his scalp while he breathes you in thoroughly, comb your fingers through his short hair, and tug gently to ease the headache he’s no doubt nursing. You pity him in a way, even though the choice to love you was his and he knew the consequences. Yet can one really control who their heart desires?

You wouldn’t know, your heart was chemically altered long ago.

So you indulge the desperate soul as best you can. Willing and yielding, you’ll let him feast on your flesh and drink from your blood until he was sated, no matter how long it would take. You’d endure this for him, for what hound didn’t want to please their master?

Your body was made of stone and toxins, cold and strong and deadly, but you believed in his ability to find a softness hidden there…somewhere.

“I love you.” You feel him coil around you like a python the moment those three little words leave your lips. And you continue to gently pet him, coax him to let go and shatter between your fingers, for once let himself feel, you wouldn’t stop him.

There’s a silence that follows, a crippling weight along with it that you won’t break as long as he didn’t voice that he wanted you to. You could stay like this all night if he needed it, he only had to ask

“You lyin’?”

“Yes.” You nod to the darkness, staring down at his light brown tuft of hair, playing with it gently before your fingers slip down to his ears, massaging them briefly, then slithering to his chin.

You raise it so he can look at you, offer him your best smile and the most vulnerability you can muster.

There’s so much pain in those whiskey-colored eyes, it’s a heartwrenching sight. He’s so torn between letting you go and getting what he wants because finally you chose to succumb. A battle rages behind his heavy eyelids, one he doesn’t let slip past the battle-scarred features. But you know him too well, you’ve delved past his mental barriers many times, and there’s not much he can hide from you.

You coo down at him and it’s scarily human, unbelievably believable.

“I love you.”

He stutters for a moment, and spurts out something you couldn’t quite make out. Contemplation weighs heavy on his face, makes his forehead litter with wrinkles, and his brows lower until they shadow over his eyes.

“Keep lyin’.” He murmurs and is on his feet in a second, picks you up like you weigh nothing before slowly carrying you to his bed.

You’re stuffed among the thin sheets and pillow before he crawls on top of you and lets his weight sink you further into the mattress. He’s heavy and warm and you feel your body melt beneath him as he nestles comfortably on top of you.

The smell of tobacco and his cologne surround you along with that distinct aroma of sleep, it all makes you relax, taut muscles turning to jelly. You barely find the energy to wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down. His stubble attacks your face, grazes cheeks and chin alike as his alcohol-dried lips press against yours in an uncertain kiss.

He hesitates still despite your willingness, almost acts shy in his gentle, feather-like pecks over your still mouth. You lock your lips together, try to encourage him as you nibble at his bottom lip.

Eagerness slowly burns away whatever doubts he has and he’s on you like a man starved, licking and sucking, dominating your mouth as the bitter flavor of bourbon stings your taste buds.

A rumble comes from deep in his throat as his eyes squeeze shut and his rough hands slip beneath your flimsy top to study the flesh beneath. You shudder under his touch and are quick to roll the both of you over, breaking the kiss in the process.

It’s not about you tonight, you can’t be slouching around and being pleased when your master was the one in dire need.

Good hounds always please.

You bunch up his tee until it’s gathered around his neck, toss it off as soon as he lifts his heavy head. It’s somewhere on the floor, discarded while you’re on a mission to tend to every inch of him you can reach. Lips latch onto his neck, sharp canines teasing the skin as your tongue runs laps over his pulse and pulls the most satisfying, meager grunts you’ve heard anyone emit.

Your eyes glint in the darkness, menacing, the orbs of a predator, and Simon has a nagging voice in the back of his head telling him to run. You’ll eat him alive, you’re not human, for once he’s the prey. But he can’t will himself to move an inch, instead he lets his hands slot on your hips and pulls you closer as you lather his skin in lovebites.

He was willing to be just another meal for you if only he gets to touch you for as long as he’s conscious. Devour him if you so wish, he’ll go down a satisfied man.

“Thas’ it, pretty girl.” He manages to rasp out between pants. “Mark me all ova’.”

You don’t disappoint, moving from his neck down to his chest, your tongue never drying because you’re salivating at the mere sight of him bared and broken under your weight. You pepper his abdomen in kisses, nuzzle the tip of your nose against the fuzzy trail starting from his belly button and disappearing under his waistband. His stomach sinks with a shuddering breath as you glide your palm over his hardened cock, noting how it’s straining against his sweatpants already and wanting nothing more than to be set free.

Your eyes dart up to see a disheveled man biting back moans the more you massage him through the thick fabric.

“Can I?” You ask, but you’re already tugging his pants down to reveal a leaking tip begging for attention.

“Jesus fuck – ” Simon barely manages to gasp as your tongue greedily licks up the sticky precum running down his shaft. His hand is in your hair, blunt nails digging into your scalp and a purr blossoms inside your chest and transfers straight to his groin.

“Tell me if I do something you don’t like, Lieu – ”

“ – Simon.” He manages to choke out before you finish, and for a moment you're frozen.

Your head rises, tilts slightly like that of a confused pup before you’re slowly and delicately crawling over him.

“Simon.” You hum softly and press a single, sugary kiss to his lips before you descend again. “My Simon.”

And he wants to cry because you’re hammering nails into his heart.

A good liar, liar, liar. Liar!

That’s all you are. A bloody good liar. He needs to remind himself, chant that sentence like a mantra as you tenderly trace your mouth over his cock before lathering it in saliva and letting it sink down to your throat.

His toes are curling as you suckle on him with scary precision, with a masqueraded need that feels so real he keeps forgetting you’re only doing this because he wanted you to.

He watches with batting lashes and lazy blinks as his girthy length disappears in your pretty mouth, lips wrapped perfectly around him, like you were made to be drooling over him.

And maybe you had been before the changes. Maybe you were his soulmate, but he’d been too late to find you.

He’s mesmerized by the twinkling canines that are so close to the pulsing veins on his shaft, yet you don’t let them cause any damage. You’re caring and careful and devoted to him completely. He likes the danger, the risk, your tenderness despite your nature. It makes him feel special in a way.

You chose him as a master, you’d rebelled for him, risked your life for him. It was slowly pumping through his blood, the fact that you were ready to do anything for him.

When you take him down to the hilt and cup his balls he nearly doubles over.

“Bloody h-hell, woman.”

You pause and look up at him with a spark of anxiety to your usually solemn features.

“Bad?”

He snorts at the question and pats your head reassuringly before picking at a stray strand of hair and twirling it around his finger. A tiny leash, even now, to guide his dog in the right direction.

“No.” He mouths and lets his head fall back against the pillow. “ ‘s good. Keep goin’.”

You’re spreading his thick, scarred thighs farther apart, nestling comfortably on your belly before you start to ease him back into your mouth, throat relaxed, taking all of him in.

“Good girl…” He breathes out and lets his eyes flutter closed.

Fuck everything. If he had only one night where you were willing, he’d fight off all his taunting thoughts until morning.

A small moan, so tiny he might have missed it if he wasn’t so enthralled by you, echoed in your throat and caused his whole body to shudder. His grunts stop, the praises also and the gentle head patting falters.

His eyes crack open and he glances down at you.

“Do tha’ again, luv.”

You moan again on command, louder, more prominent this time. It reverberates down his cock and he nearly cums on then and there.

A sweet symphony gifted only to him, honeyed noises that are meant for him alone to hear because you’ve been his from the very beginning. Precious little thing you are, all powdered sugar and poison ivy. He’d rather die to your venom than live a day without you by his side.

And the worst part is that you know all this, but you’re a good hound, you don’t take it for granted. You’re grateful for anything he gives you.

Just having him is enough for you.

Mewling sounds rain down on him, salving over every thought, every scar, he drowns in them, letting them linger in his ears as you work your tongue over his tip and swallow every drop of precum that oozes out. His free hand is clutching the sheets so tight the threads are straining not to rip under the pressure. His bottom lip is imprisoned between his teeth, bruised at how harshly he bites down on it to keep quiet.

Simon doesn’t realize he’s bucking his hips up in tune with your mouth and writhing beneath your steady hold until you release his cock from your bittersweet torture and settle on his thighs like a woman victorious.

“You’re ready.” You mumble more to yourself than him and he watches as you toss your top somewhere on the hardwood floor. Your sports bra follows after and you’re bare before him, breasts exposed and nipples hardening from the low temperature.

You’re quick to discard your bottom as well and are about to mount him before he grips your waist and still you, the tip of his shaft brushing against your entrance, pulsating with need and swollen red.

You give him a quizzical look and his brows furrow.

“But you ain’t.” Simon grunts. “This ain’t just about me, luv. Not gonna use you like tha’.”

You shake your head at him in disapproval and try to take him in your dry heat, but he won’t budge.

“I don’t need to be.” You protest.

His skin crawls at the thought and he’s quick to roll you onto your back and cage you between his large upper arms.

“Want you to enjoy this too.” He says with so much softness it makes you whimper and cling to him as if the mattress will swallow you whole. He brushes his nose against yours and steals a brief kiss. “You make me feel good. I make you feel good, ye? Want this to be mutual. As much as possible.”

When he tries to slide down to your core, you clutch at his hair and stutter out excuses. Panic twinkles in your eyes that aren’t the emotionless wholes that bore into his soul just a few hours ago. There’s more to them now, a kind of uncertainty he’s not seen before and to which he’ll cling like a drowning man to a straw.

“Trust me.” He soothes and continues down, kissing along your breasts and brushing his lips over your tummy. He spreads you open and comes to face your neglected sex, then glances up at you one last time. “If you don’ like it, I’ll stop.”

He’s not gentle in his mission to please you. It’s all greedy slurps and teeth and a relentless tongue that drags over your clit. Everything he does is a desperate attempt at awakening a spark in you and the more he pushes the faster a knot surfaces somewhere deep in your belly. His fingers slip past your folds and stretch your tightness, reminding you that you can still feel pleasure. He pumps them inside you lazily, first one, then two and once you’re dripping down his palm, he adds a third and has you wailing.

Your trembling thighs come to squeeze either side of his head to muffle his hearing because your moans aren’t imitations anymore. He’s starved for the noises spilling from your lips, languid sighs of his name and whispered pleas to keep going. Torn between feeling your strong thighs cutting the blood flow from his ears and humming along to your meager whines, beckoning you to produce more and feed his bottomless hunger.

“Let go f’ me, pretty girl.” He rumbles, words slurred by the evergrowing slickness he’s smearing over his stubble. “Tha’s it.”

You’re trying desperately to wiggle away from him, the heat in your cunt is unbearable, pulsing and aching and it’s been so long that you don’t remember what follows next.

But his grip on you is iron and you’ve not the strength to detach him from his pursuit.

You come undone beneath him, shatter in his hands, scratching at his back and shoulders viciously as his name flows past your lips in a chant, accompanied by a slew of moans and curses. There’s beads of tears gathering at the corners of your eyes and threatening to spill.

He emerges to kiss them away, terrified that if he voiced their existence everything would be over, the spell would break. Instead, he coos down at you as you tremble in his arms and whimper incoherences up at him. He’s gentle now despite the ache between his legs, lowers himself down on you and squishes you to shush your pleas of confusion. He’ll be your safety blanked, a weighted, warm, rugged blanket that will always be there at your disposal, you only need seek it out.

He feels your cunt pulsing and drenched when he presses the tip of cock to it, grinds against it to coat himself in slickness.

Despite your spent state, you’re still willing to please, wrap your legs around his thick waist faithfully and push down on his lower back with the heels of your feet. He eases into you with care, gazing at you watchfully for any signs of discomfort even though he knows you’d rather die than sacrifice his pleasure for a bit of pain.

Your breaths come out shaky as you adjust your hips and spread your thighs wider, trying to accommodate to his bulk.

“Bloody fuckin’ Christ…” Your name follows along with a handful of unsavory words as he patiently fills you, shallow thrusts and clenched teeth as he holds himself back. “So tight f’ me. Perfect f’ me, luv. Fuckin’ heavenly…”

He’d prepped you thoroughly, both with tongue and fingers, and it was still a snug fit. You wrapped around him like a sleeve, choked his cock with your hot, mushy walls that sucked him in greedily every time he tried to pull out a bit.

“Greedy li’le cunt you got.”

“Your cunt, Simon.” You manage to choke out in between heavy breaths and meek whimpers. But your patience runs thin, you want to be ravaged and he’s taking too long, so you thrust your hips up and take what part of him still wasn’t swallowed in sinful tightness. “Don’t spare me. I’m no virgin.”

His tip smushes against your squishy cervix and your eyes roll back as he snarls like a beast and becomes taut.

“Fuck!” He hisses and rolls his hips once, twice, bruising your soft insides with his girth as your wetness squirts out and covers his inner thighs, slicking the curly hairs there because there’s just no more fucking room inside you.

He goes for your neck and settles for a steady pace, barely managing to move his cock with how desperately your core sucks him back in. His teeth sink in your tender flesh, leaving marks and then soothing them with apologetic flicks of his tongue.

Your nails are drawing pictures of red on his back and you’re begging him to be rougher, to give you more, all of him. Then you stop because he’s scarred enough as is. You flatten your palms over his mass instead, trace his spine delicately, and move in toon with him, letting him bury himself to the hilt, until his pelvis presses against yours.

He’s panting in your hair, there’s already a thin sheen of sweat coating his body and making him glow in the moonlight like a battered, fallen angel.

You kiss along his shoulder, run your hands wherever you can reach, wandering over his body and memorizing everything in your path.

Loving promises slip past your kiss-bruised lips as his pace quickens and you’re being forced farther into the bed with every hurried thrust.

He’s groping you with bruising need, practically crushes you beneath him until only your feet are exposed to the cold. The room fills with the sound of your sloshy sex, your pleas and his grunts, sloppy open-mouthed kisses, and a creaking bed that’s barely supporting both of your weights. Your ears feel hot and your heart thrums with every breathless call of your name that escapes him in between bites.

Knots are coiling in your belly again and you’re calling out to him without a second thought. It feels natural, instinctual.

“Simon, please, love…”

His pace becomes brutal, he’s all fangs and guttural growls as he forces himself inside you, too lost in his pleasure to care anymore. Because your little pussy is heaven to him, wants him so desperately, pulls at him with need, takes him all in even though he’s too big for you.

“Good girl. So good…My good girl. Pretty girl. Fuck!”

Your back is already arching before his mindless praises start. You scream, vocal cords straining and he clamps a hand over your mouth to muffle your ecstasy as you convulse beneath him in pure bliss. You clutch at his arms so tightly there are bruises forming under your fingertips but neither of you cares.

“Gotta be quiet, pretty girl…Don’ want anyone hearin’ those sounds but me, ye?”

You’re clamping down on him at that, a pool of slickness leaking from your core, down your ass, and pooling over the sheets. But your pleasure is short-lived when you feel him start to pull out, fully intending to finish himself off by hand.

You snarl up at him and your legs turn to stone around him, forcing him back inside. His head tilts up at you, desperation in his wide eyes because he can’t quite comprehend that you’re giving him such freedom.

“No.” You command and he would have protested but he’s so close that he whines at you instead. His movements become slopping, his fingers digging into your flesh and making it bulge. “Fill me, fill me, fill me…”

“Fuck..Fuck..Fuck!”

Lightning surges up his spine, makes him arch briefly before he’s curling over you, nearly suffocating you beneath his bulk. His grunts culminate in a raspy moan as his cock twitches inside you, coating your pretty pink insides with spurts of hot sticky cum. Your name zips past his teeth, lingers in the air until the next chant. His balls tighten against your ass as they empty themselves inside your waiting womb.

He fills you to the brim, trembles in your arms, collapses with a huff and his pants collide with the side of your neck as he struggles to catch his breath. Only slips his cock out when it softens and lets his cum ooze onto his bedsheets, uncaring for the mess.

“You okay?”

You glance up at him through heavy eyelids and nod before curling into him willingly. His breath hitches at your unexpected gesture.

He’d thought you’d simply get up, dress and leave, job done. Instead, you wrap a leg around his waist and snuggle up, selfishly stealing his warmth and letting your eyes close. Your arms are tucked between your bodies, fingers spaced out and pressed against his skin, nose buried into his collarbone and inhaling deeply.

Wordlessly, he tugs the covers over your bodies, gets comfortable and slips an arm under your head.

How long until the spell fades? When is the end of your lies?

He doesn’t want the answers, but for the sake of his sanity, he needs them, and too afraid to ask, he lies there silently, eyes wide open and staring at the top of your head as you drift off to sleep against him like this was your usual ritual, like you did this every night.

“I love you.”

It pierces the darkness, strikes right into his chest and he swallows a lump that threatens to choke him.

“Are you lyin’?”

He needs to know, needs to harden himself because it’ll be all over soon. If you were planning on prolonging your torture over him, he wanted it to end. He’d had his fill, this was enough, you were free. You could just leave.

Simon felt guilty enough as is, without you bestowing more on him, he didn’t deserve all this. He didn’t need more pity –

“ – No.”

<<< Chapter 4

Masterlist

[shadovvheart]

new inky just dropped ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Her name is Lorraine, she's an innovator and reformer, a science wizard enchanter with an interest in inventing new practical ways of applying magic for everyday use to "serve man". A devoted andrastian with some religious trauma (tm) who thinks the circle institution under the chantry is outdated and needs to be changed.

She's reserved, observant, analytical, can be a bit awkward. Has trust issues, and forming relationships doesn't come easy for her, especially with non-mages. Kind of an "aloof, autistic scientist who can appear rude but is determined to improve the world with their inventions" archetype.

More ramblings under the cut 👇🏻

• Lorraine's fam were extremely pro-templar and raised their kids to be devout to the chantry. Magic was considered a dangerous burden, something to be hidden and kept away from regular people, so Lori has some internalised shame due to being a mage. Though she eventually does come to a realisation that her parents' views were unjust and that she shouldn't feel this way, and that her magic is a gift rather than a disgrace. Still, she does her best to put her magic to good use and invent new ways of aiding people through it, in part as a way to prove herself to the world. She believes mages should be allowed to contribute more to society, have professions and hobbies and more safe spaces to experiment with their gift.

• Before discovering her love for academic study and experiments, Lorraine wanted to be a templar. As the youngest child in her family with close ties to the chantry, she couldn't think of anything more fitting as she didn't want to be a cleric, and the idea of being a knight in shiny armour was compelling for a kid. Her magic manifested when she was 11 years old in the dead of the night when the estate was sound asleep. Waking up from a nightmare, she found herself surrounded by fire. She doesn't have much memory from what happened that night, only that she was dragged away by the templars from her home.

• The fire she caused was devastating to the estate, and Lorraine's parents and siblings didn't survive the night. She knows this, but due to the trauma caused suppressed her memories about what really happened. For many years being stuck in the circle she believed her family were so disappointed with her being a mage that they completely turned away from her, refusing to even write letters. That grew some serious resentment and shame inside of her. Her then mentor, Lydia, decided to spare the child more suffering and encouraged her delusions.

• Lydia was like a mother to Lorraine, and while she didn't have many friends at the circle, she considered her fellow mages to be her new family. She's often distrusting and cautious of non-mages, having a hard time believing that they can be accepting and caring about her - a mage - without having some ulterior motive. During the inquisition she bonds fastest with her mage companions. I also see her being closer to Dagna than any other non-mage companion due to their shared interests and passions.

• Eventually, when Lori received the vigil of trust and was allowed to make trips outside of the circle, Lydia told her the truth about the night when she was taken to the circle and encouraged her to reach out to her more distant relatives. Lorraine didn't see the point, as none of those relatives chose to reach out to her all these years either.

• Unlocking those memories for her was...ugly. There's still some unresolved trauma that she tries to learn how to live with. Naturally, the Nightmare demon in here lies the abyss quest takes full advantage of that because Drama. :3c

• I reckon Lorraine is interested in studying lyrium and finding ways for both mages and non-mages to work with it safely. She's also intrigued by the fade and the veil, so naturally she chooses the new, "experimental" fade rift magic later in the game. Apart from rift magic, she often opts for the frost element and spirit schools. She believes people shouldn't shy away from more sophisticated enchantments and other forms of magical crafts, taking inspiration from Tevinter and how they implement magical solutions to everyday problems.

• She would probably invent a magical fire alarm system enchantments to be installed in people's homes.

• While she's the kind of a person who would rather sit in a lab/study all day without interacting with a single living soul, she at one point got frustrated enough with her ideas being denied by the first enchanter that she decided to get into politics and push for reforms that would allow her to practice magic more freely.

• Speaking of politics, Lorraine spent most of her circle life in the aequitarian camp that generally tries to follow the chantry law. She always abided by the rule that magic should serve man in ethical ways, but also considered the system to be rather old-fashioned and limiting. She wrote drafts of reform programs detailing a secure and steady transition in which the circle would gradually provide more freedoms to mages, eventually letting mages govern themselves with as little chantry supervision as possible. When the mage rebellion started and fraternities split into two sides, Lorraine begrudgingly sided with the libertarians and supported the full separation from the chantry.

• Anyway, she has some serious personal issues but doesn't like letting it show and stays put. She's very focused on her work, determined and efficient, and is self aware enough to not take herself too seriously, so while she's not talkative and prefers to keep to herself, she doesn't sulk or dwell on her traumas, and tries to be friendly and accommodating to others. Although from her perspective, that equals to just being patient enough not to tell others to go fuck themselves fifteen seconds into the conversation.

Etc etc I think i could go on but I'm yet to complete a full playthrough with her and this is already a lot so maybe I'll yap about Lori more sometime later 🙈

[ghouldtime]

I just followed you based solely on an ask you responded to because I very much vibe with a Ghost who walked into a craft store for paint and came out with two new hobbies.

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚 AHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!

I'm a proud 'Simon "Ghost" Riley is just A Dude ©' Truther

I love seeing that where he is just living a nice domestic life. I usually write spooky AU's or things with the paranormal but he's always just a dude there too, I like keeping him like that!!

To me, I can never look at him flat on and agree with the version of Ghost that people usually write (no shame to those who do, keep doing whatever makes you happy - it's not personal it's just not my taste) where they make him this ultra edgelord dommy sigma guy where he's always somehow towering over EVERYONE, growls every word, and is just???? That version viscerally reminds me of my early wattpad days or those rlly weird thirst trap biketoks

Like, have you LISTENED when this man speaks? Have you heard his jokes? His sense of humor that he doesn't hide??? Give me the dad jokes, give me the terrible puns that would make you give him a significant side eye if you heard them as his shoulders shake with the laughter he's trying to hold back !!!

Soap implied he made his masks and he probably would have to to make sure that hey, this isn't something flammable. I don't think he'd just buy something that personal to him. Which means he would have to sit down and pull out the paint kit, pull out the Dremel, and get to work

THAT MEANS he has to go buy the art supplies. He has to go shop for them and browse the aisles of paint, holding up two of the bottles, determining if he would rather have Eggshell white or Ivory. And I'm convinced that yes, he knows there's a difference and he'll insist on it and NO it's not the same shade

He sews, he has to. He HAD to have made his mask. Sewing is also a super practical skill when you're out on the field and it helps improve dexterity and coordination so I'm going to say it's likely he does. Sewing is super cool y'all.

So I implore you to imagine him in the fabric store, trying not to get distracted by the seasonal prints or the really ornate shimmery fabrics that you can't help but to look at. I refuse to accept that he hasn't sewn pillows in his house just because he liked a certain fabric and wanted to use it

And I'm going to say he's made a god awful holiday themed mask. It's simultaneously the most ugly thing you've ever set eyes upon and the greatest thing ever too. He's committed to the bit

He's also picked up embroidery because, like sewing, it helps improve your dexterity and keeps your hands busy. It's also practical because how else can people steal your things or confuse them if there's a tiny ghost embroidered on the hem????

He's just a guy and I love imagining Ghost with actual domestic hobbies, being himself, living his life (falling into the trap we all do at some point of going into an art store and finding something interesting to do)

Just A Dude�� Ghost is my favorite and I'll never let him go

[bloodismymedium]

My Bill Collins/Skinface Headcanons

Check out my Mona Lanius headcanons here if you haven’t! 💀 Bill Collins was always a psychopath, an undiagnosed one at that and in every waking moment of his life he had extremely violent thoughts and impulses that he struggled to keep in check on a day to day basis but he did his best to keep his demons at bay for the sake of his family and career but he would have moments where he got to “vent” his repressed thoughts such as by torturing animals whether they be stray pets or animals he would find on his frequent hunting trips. He also had a reputation of being very “overzealous” as police officer due to his constant battle with violent, intrusive thoughts, he was the kind of guy you would think of when you think of the phrase “police brutality”. It was keeping these violent desires at bay that lead him to being very depressed and shameful of himself but all that would change when he met someone very special.

💀 Mona broke into Bill’s house to murder him and his family but was ambushed by Bill, anticipating that she would come after finding her painting in home. Bill pinned Mona to the floor with his full weight on top of her emaciated form, hand wrapped around her throat and a knife pointed at her heart. Bill was literally drooling as his dilated pupils stared into Mona’s black eyes, barely able to contain his excitement as he would finally be able to live out his murderous thoughts on a real person. Mona and Bill saw themselves in each other’s eyes and for the first time in Mona’s life she felt true love. Mona gave Bill a crooked smile and said “go ahead, do it”, her voice laced with twisted arousal which Bill picked up on almost instantly. Bill’s wife than came into the room where she saw him pinning the intruder down but before she could say anything, Bill lunged at her and slit her throat, much to Mona’s surprise yet equal delight. Bill would then assist Mona in killing his own daughters and help dispose of their bodies.

💀 It was actually Bill’s idea to cut off one of his arms to add it to the blended up slurry that was now the rest of the Collins family in order to throw off investigators and lead them to believe he was dead. It was shortly after that where Mona told him to cut off his own face, acting as a symbolic gesture of letting go of the false life he lead before meeting her and embracing his true self, which he did with no questions asked. Bill was never happier, the man he pretended to be was gone and he has fully embraced what he was always meant to be, a monster. Mona found what every artist needed, a muse and Bill found what he was truly missing from life, a soulmate.

💀 Let’s get straight to the point, no bullshit. Mona and Bill are absolutely in love with each other and they actually would die for the other and they truly never felt that kind of love before in their entire lives. They inspire each other to be their worst selves and they find new things about the other that makes them love each other even more every day. Bill is the only human being Mona will ever feel something towards that isn’t unrelenting revulsion because she truly understands him and loves him for the bloodthirsty animal he is and Bill will always have unrelenting love and devotion towards Mona for finally freeing him from the “delusion” he was living. They are truly meant to be 🫀🫀🫀

💀 Bill is something of an artist as well, although his forte is in taxidermy and sculpting as he practiced both hobbies as futile attempts to keep his psychopathic desires in check. He now applies these skills in assisting Mona in their murders, the results of which inspire Mona to paint. The murders of Tom Harris and Ian Ford being examples of Bill applying his own artistic talent and it was also through these skills where Bill made his mask from the skin of his own face. Mona and Bill really do inspire one another and they view each other as phenomenal artists both in terms of killing and their actual art. It was through Bill where Mona would learn these skills as well.

💀 Bill is 6’3 and weighs just a little over three hundred pounds, being a very burly man with an even mix of muscle and fat composing his bulk, he possesses superb strength that makes him an effective killer and accomplice in Mona’s artistic endeavors. The photo of him seen in the second episode was of him before he started working out, another hobby he dabbled in to curb his repressed nature. It was also through Bill where Mona discovered she has a thing for big dudes.

💀 Cutting off his face and fashioning it into a mask came with some disadvantages, such as losing his ability to speak coherently. To make up for being unable to speak, Bill learned sign language through Mona and would also learn to communicate through sounds and vocalizations he could make without lips, such as barking and growling. Mona finds this adorable and jokingly calls him her dog”, going as far as giving him a spiked collar, which Bill unironically loves.

💀 Bill does most of the murders, acting as a muse for Mona’s paintings. Mona has the utmost love and admiration for Bill’s brutality, considering his murders to be high art all on their own. Bill meanwhile deems Mona’s methods of killing to be as beautiful as she, focused yet brutal and overflowing with originality. Overall, Bill’s murders like a wild animal, chaotic and brutal, while Mona is more focused, planned out and applies more twisted creativity when killing.

💀 Bill is a actually good cook, like REALLY good. Having learned how to cook from both his father, a line cook for the Navy and his mother, a homemaker and having a life time of experience in handling meat thanks to his hunting hobby. Mona, who was more than happy eating raw human meat and cockroaches before meeting Bill, is now addicted to his cooking and the meals he’s able to whip up with whatever organs they’ve harvested from their victims and ingredients stolen from their homes is the stuff you’d expect from a five star restaurant.

💀 Bill has a lot of kinks… like maybe too many, necrophilia, pet play, extreme sadomasochism, crossdressing, you name it. Years of repressing his urges paired with religious trauma caused him to develop a lot of fetishes that he kept behind close doors but now he embraces and lives out all of his worst, perverted fantasies in all the worst ways possible with Mona’s encouragement as she too, is a degenerate sexual deviant but it can be debated that Bill is worse.

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Jake Jensen

Summary: Jake knows he's the luckiest man in the world and it's all because of you.

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Previous

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

"Y' see, Jake, a lot o' people in this department ain't exactly friendly to others," Sy tells him. "In fact, it can be difficult for me an' Pine to assign anyone to tickets that require interacting with others."

Jake nods, a little nervously. "IT generally doesn't draw the most charismatic people."

"Which is a damn shame because, more and more, it requires some decent people skills," Sy agrees. "That's why Pine an' I were thinking of giving you a promotion." Jake's eyes go wide with shock. "The way things are right now, we assign tickets kinda randomly. We're interested in putting you in charge of the tickets. You'd be takin' on a lot more of the people focused work, the level 1 support, and the others'd be pickin' up more of your programming work. But since we all know workin' with people can be a pain, Pine's made sure to negotiate some more money into our budget for you. If you want the job."

"By 'in charge of tickets' do you mean I'd be taking them all on?"

"No, no, no," Sy assures. "Just that you'd be making them your priority. And you'd be assigning the level 2 and 3 support tickets around the department as you see fit."

"Won't that cut into your work?"

Syverson laughs at that. "Given how much o' my day is puttin' out fires caused by one of ours bein' rude to others in the building, yeah. But that just gives me more time for actually managing y'all, keepin' us up-to-date on projects, security measures and other stuff."

Jake thinks for a moment. "Does this mean I'll also be responsible for Lloyd's complaints about not getting Maestro assigned to his tickets?"

"He has eased up on that," Sy counters. "But yes."

"But this promotion gives me the authority to handle him, right?"

"That's correct."

Jake nods. "I'm in. Thanks so much for this!"

It had taken forever to get the twins to sleep for their afternoon naps. Leia couldn't stop fidgeting, at least until you gave her the Charmander stuffie to hold as you rocked them. But then Luke wanted his Bulbasaur and you ended up with overfull arms. Some days you're surprised your own biceps aren't as big as Jake's!

Jake's performance review was today and you wanted to make sure to cook up his favorite foods. You'd already sent some of his favorite snacks to work with him. You chuckle thinking about how quickly he can down a bottle of Mountain Dew. The bag of gummy worms to go with the meatball sub were, hopefully, a nice surprise for him. Generally all the sweets in the apartment were homemade but you know how much of a comfort gummy worms can be for him.

And after all Jake has done for you, for the twins, how could not comfort him? Be there for him? Jake never once talked down to you. Never made you feel like your hobbies or interests were a waste of time. He always made sure you felt loved and appreciated. You'd been together for so many years but you still giggle like a teenager whenever you think of him. And you know he does the same. Heck, you giggle as you think of him blushing pink and smiling as he thinks about you.

He's been working so hard to make sure you and the twins were provided for. The budget was sometimes tight but Jake made enough and your commissions were a good supplement. It just made sense for your little family to have a stay-at-home parent. Childcare costs for twins could be rough. But you got more creative with recipes, clothing, toys; your families were happy to help with a lot of the baby supplies; all of it resulting in all of you being able to live a nice, modest but incredibly happy life.

As the twins nap you get to work on the 5-cheese mac you know Jake loves. You're positive his performance review will go well, but it doesn't hurt to have a comfort food ready for him when he gets home.

Jake was practically bursting with excitement when he came home. As soon as he walked through the door the twins held out their hands, smiling, "Dada! Dada!" It always made his heart melt that they looked forward to his coming home. He picked them both up and spun, making them squeal with laughter. He takes a deep breath and knows what you're cooking up for dinner, making him smile even more. He's almost tearing up from how loved he feels.

"Dinner's just about ready," you call from the kitchen.

Jake looks to Luke and Leia, "you ready for dinner? Smells like Mama cooked up some really good food for us!" They both start chattering and laughing as Jake dances them over to their highchairs and gets them settled in. He joins you in the kitchen to help you carry things out and greets you with a big kiss.

"I take it the review went well?"

He starts visibly shaking with excitement, "so well! Let's get dinner started and I'll tell you!"

"Tease!" you smile at him as the two of you take things out to the table, making him laugh. Seeing him laugh causes the twins to renew their laughing and your heart warms all the more for it.

You and Jake alternate dishing out the food for yourselves and the twins. Even though it's certainly cooled down, Luke still holds out his spoon of mac and cheese for you to blow on it. Meanwhile Jake is helping to portion control Leia's ketchup for her chicken nuggets. Both of you are certain she'd drink the ketchup if left unattended so you've developed a system of adding a little dollop to each one as she's eating. Sometimes Jake thinks she views it as a game to play and he hopes she never grows out of it.

After the twins are sated a bit, you and Jake can finally dig in to your own plates. Jake gives all the appreciative moans he knows make you smile. It helps that your cooking is genuinely so damn delicious.

"Now will you finally tell me how the review went?"

"I'm getting a promotion!"

You squeal with happiness, causing a chain reaction with the twins. "A promotion! That's so wonderful! So well deserved!"

Jake blushes, "thank you, Sunshine. And it even comes with a pay raise! I think, after a few months, we can start looking at getting a bigger place!"

"Oh, Jakey! That's so wonderful! I really feel like we should celebrate!"

"I can think of a few ways to celebrate," Jake says, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Definitely," you confirm with a giggle as heat rushes to your face. "I'm also thinking we should do a gaming night."

Jake's eyes go wide, "yes, please! Oh that would be so amazing! Not as amazing as you, but still amazing. God I love you so much, Sunshine! You're the best thing to ever happen to me---"

"I feel the same about you, Jakey," you say softly.

Next

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[lov3m3darling]

Apple of my Eye (Obsessed!Wally Darling x Short!Reader) Pt. 3

Oh boy, here I go writing again >:3

Anyways, to everyone who has supported this or left a nice comment, just know I would die for you 💙

After this, I'm thinking of writing something for Howdy. There isn't nearly enough fics on here about our favorite bug boi 💚🐛 it might just be some HCs but I gotta do something for him cause now I ALSO have a lil crush on him ;-; he's so tall and he's got all those arms for huggin! I kinda also wanna make an OC to ship with him. I was thinking maybe a snail who works at the Bugdega with him. I just really like snails, I have 2 of them as pets 🐌❤️

Anyway, on with this fic. Enjoyyy!

!!!(TW: obsessive behaviors, jealousy, eye imagery)!!!

💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙

The next day, you got up with more enthusiasm than usual. You decided on a nice light breakfast of (fav fruit) so you could save your appetite for lunch with Wally.

Oh boy, there you went thinking about him again...

After last night, you couldn't seem to get him out of your mind. Even when you finally managed to fall asleep, you dreamt of him.

Dreams of more dates, of gentle kisses as you watched the sunset, of cuddles and movies and snacks under a cozy blanket...

What was happening to you? You were positive you'd never been so lovesick before...

It was even hard for you wait until lunchtime that day. Instead of your usual hobbies to pass the time, you found yourself staring at the clock and fidgeting. You tried to keep yourself busy, but couldn't seem to focus on any of the books or tv shows you tried to watch. It all just came back to the agonizingly slow ticking of the clock on the wall.

But finally...FINALLY it was time to start getting ready, and you practically jumped off the couch to get started.

Eventually you stood in your kitchen, waiting for Wally to arrive. Not a hair out of place, not a single wrinkle in your clothing, and not a clue what you would do when he actually showed up. Wally always seemed to fluster you, and you didn't want to be fumbling over yourself on a date with him, of all things! What would he think?!

Your anxious thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Taking a deep breath, you made your way as gracefully as possible to the door to answer it.

And there he was. Wearing a red suit and holding a very colorful bouquet of flowers in his hands, he smiled at you with that calm expression he always seemed to have.

"(Y/n), you look..."

Oh heavens...there it was again, that warmth within him. You looked absolutely, positively, wonderfully....

"Perfect..." he breathed, his eyes taking in your full form. He realized after a few beats that he was staring, and shifted his eyes up to your blushing face instead.

You shyly looked down at your shoes and squirmed under his gaze.

"Ah, golly...stop it or I'll melt. You look breathtaking in a suit too, Wally..."

You could absolutely cut the romantic tension with a knife at this point, it hung so heavily in the air. Suddenly, Wally remembered the flowers.

"Oh, I got you these! I can't lie, they were Barnaby's suggestion...I don't know much about dates. I've never been on one before"

He held them out to you, and you took them catefully, your fingers brushing his for a moment. You glanced at each other and then bashfully looked away again.

"They're gorgeous! I-I better get them in a vase so they last a long time! I'll only be a moment.."

Wally came in to wait while you rummaged in the kitchen cabinet for a nice vase to put your flowers in.

Looking around your living room, he noticed a few pictures hung up of you with some people he didn't recognize...including a man you seemed particularly close with.

His eye twitched.

"Say, (y/n), who are these fine folks in these pictures with you?"

"Hm? Oh! Those are some of my friends back home!"

thisisyourhome

"Yeah, shame I can't see them as much anymore. But we still call often!"

don'ttalktothem

You came back to the living room, having found a suitable vase for the flowers and displayed them on your kitchen table. You noticed Wally looking at one picture in particular and smiled.

"Ah, that's me and my cousin! That was a fun summer..."

Suddenly, the anger clouding Wally's mind evaporated. He realized his stare was about to break the glass of the picture frame, and he looked away, straightening his tie and smiling at you.

"Well, I'm sure living here will give you plenty new memories to hang on the wall"

You nodded.

"I'm sure it will, too. Hey, I'll grab my camera and maybe you and I can take one!"

A picture with him? To hang on your wall?

Though Wally had no heart, he was almost positive he felt one skip a beat in his chest as he thought about you displaying him among your closest friends and family. Was he really that important to you?

He watched you pack your camera away in the basket, and picked it up before you could. You looked up at him questioningly, but he just smiled and offered you his arm.

"I'll carry it. Come on, there's a lot to see!"

Wally brought you all around town, pointing out spots of interest and naming off which neighbors lived in which houses. Several of them were outside as you went by, and you got to meet them finally.

Julie was absolutely ecstatic to meet you! She gave you a lovely yellow flower from her garden and offered to come over and do your hair one day.

Frank was cold at first, but when you complimented his bowtie and expressed interest in the book he was reading, he warmed up and said you could come by for book discussion and tea anytime.

Alternatively, Barnaby was warm immediately! He was proud to see his best buddy on a date with such a pretty and polite new neighbor, and he told you some of his best jokes. And it was nice to meet the guy who gave Wally all that date advice!

Howdy was outside sweeping when you came by, and shook your hand with 2 of his. When he learned of your plans to have a picnic, he gave you a couple of the cookies he had just gotten in stock. On the house! And told you to come by the shop anytime you needed anything.

Eddie wasn't at the post office, but you did cross paths later on your walk. He tipped his hat and introduced himself, but seemed to get distracted when he spotted Frank catching butterflies across the street, and quickly excused himself, stumbling over his own feet on the way. You asked Wally what was up with him, and he chuckled.

"Eddie and Frank are...well...fond of each other"

"Ohh!" you said as it finally clicked in your mind.

"They are cute together, aren't they?"

You looked at Wally shyly.

"Cuter than us?"

His face flushed bright red.

"Nothing is cuter than you, dearest~ Why, you're the loveliest thing I've ever laid eyes on~"

You giggled teasingly, but felt his arm wrap around your waist as you continued on your walk. Your face grew warm for the millionth time since you met him, but you managed to at least lean your head against his shoulder in return.

Eventually, you arrived at the picnic spot. It was shady and private and the grass was soft.

"This is where I like to paint sometimes. I love Home and the neighbors and all...but sometimes quiet and solitude is nice as well"

You nodded as you grabbed the blanket from the basket and spread it out.

"That makes sense. I like my alone time too, but...for some reason I never need a break from you, Wally" you admitted, looking away shyly.

He was silent for a beat, then chuckled and plopped down onto the blanket. You moved to sit across from him, but he unexpectedly took your hands and guided you to sit in his lap. He kissed your hands and gazed up at you like you were the most divine thing he had ever seen.

Because you were.

"I could never get tired of you either. You've given my life meaning again"

Your eyes widened and sparkled at his words. You were speechless until one of his hands came up to caress your cheek. You leaned into his hand, and he smiled.

"Could I..?"

"Oh, please do.."

And he did.

Warmth spread through your body, right to your very soul. Everything around the two of you seemed to fade away until even the chirping of the birds was fuzzy and distant. You weren't sure how long the kiss lasted, but when Wally did pull away, he sighed.

"If you aren't mine after this, I'll surely die.."

You smiled, leaning your forehead against his.

"Looks like the show must go on, Mr. Darling"

A giddy grin spread across his face and he attacked your face and neck with joyful kisses.

When you two were finished kissing and flirting, you decided to finally have your lunch. There were a few apple-based dishes, but to Wally's surprise, he liked everything! He had always been a picky eater; rarely trying new things and only eating when he absolutely had to, but soon he found a whole new world of foods he liked. Sandwiches, cookies, watermelon...they were all delightful! Who knew!

Of course, he only took bites when you weren't looking. He wasn't ready to tell you how he ate yet, and he didn't want to scare you off. So instead, he would lift the food to his mouth before blinking, just to seem more realistic.

But you were too dazed from all the kisses and your new boyfriend to notice or care.

Boyfriend...oh, the thought made you shudder with excitement! And he was so sweet and marvelous, you never wanted your time with him to end. You'd never met anyone you didn't eventually need space from, but you were positive you would be quite content to sit on this blanket under this tree with him forever, holding hands and making jokes and eating yummy food...

But eventually, the sun started to go down and it was time to pack up. Wally helped you put everything away, and suddenly you spotted your camera at the bottom of the basket.

"Oh, hey! Let's take that picture before we go"

Wally seemed excited for it, and pulled you back into his lap. You took several pictures; your faces together smiling, your lips to his cheek, making bunny ears over the top of his pompadour, and a few kissing ones. You made sure to snap two of each so he could have one, then tucked your camera away in the basket again. You spread out the photos on the blanket at smiled at him.

While you waited for them to develop, you both laid down to watch the clouds.

"Ooh! That one looks like a flower!" you exclaimed, pointing to it. Wally hummed in agreement.

"I think that one is a car"

"What? No way, it looks like a banana! And so do you!" You said, sitting up and poking his face where his nose would be.

"How's that?"

"I don't know! ...you're yellow?"

"Ha ha ha...(y/n) you're very imaginative. One of the things I love about you"

You blushed.

"Well...I love your laugh"

"I love your smile"

"I love your hair"

"I love your cooking"

"I love you"

Silence. You slapped your hand over your mouth and sat straight up, refusing to look at him. Where did that come from?! Nervously, you waited for him to say something. Anything.

"...please say it again"

Slowly, you turned to look at him. He was sitting up now, too, and his eyes were wide.

"I..I love..you...and maybe that's weird or wrong! I just met you yesterday! So it's crazy, but I...I love you, Wally"

"(Y/n) you are just...the absolute most.."

There were hearts in his eyes as he grabbed your shoulders and kissed you yet again, smiling against your lips.

"I love you too"

...

"Oh hey, the photos are done"

💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙🍎💛🍎💙

Welp. What a date, huh? ☺️ little less yandere in this part, but part 4 will have plenty. I wanted to establish that it's not just some random obsession, he's genuinely in love with you and you feel the same.

Should make yandere dynamic...interesting.

As always, more to come ❤️🍎

[koufli]

141 with a famous reader? Actress like a reader who’s a iconic ( known to be the queen of action movies) marvel,dc,desperate housewives etc SHE HAS A BIG SUPERHERO ROLE (wonder woman,scarlet witch,catwoman)

❤️❤️❤️

꧁༺𝙷𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜! 𝙾𝚘𝚑, 𝙸 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜. ༻꧂

꧁༺𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝙽𝚜𝚏𝚠! ༻꧂

1. Simon “Ghost” Riley.

°⨳°·..·°⨳°٭⊹°⨳°·..·°⨳°.°⨳°·..·°⨳°٭⊹°⨳°·..·°⨳° °⨳°·

Simon hardly ever watches any movies, but the ones he watches are definitely some sort of fighting genre. He loves action movies, but he’ll never admit it.

He also never admits that he has a favourite actor, he’ll always say something like: “that’s stupid. It’s not like it’s realistic or real, why would I obsess over someone who’s just playing a role?”

Little does anyone know that you are his favourite actor.

He purposefully picks the action movies you’re in, and when he’s alone he’ll appreciate your skill in acting.

He’ll always start getting defensive if soap points out the fact that you’re in every movie he picks, so the TaskForce just stay quiet and grin in amusement that he may have a fond liking towards your characters.

He’ll for sure save the movies you’re in to jerk off to later, he doesn’t realise the extent to which you turn him on. He’s never felt like this about any other celebrity before, but he finds you so attractive it’s hard not to get a bulge when he’s watching you.

He’s the type to settle down after a long day, turn the Tv on and lazily touch himself to your action scenes. He has a huge thing for how vicious you look.

If you two were to ever bump into each other, he will be fan-girling so hard.

He won’t show it, but his heart will be pounding as he casually strolls up to you and asks for a picture.

He’ll clear his throat to get your attention and ask you in a very manly tone to get a picture.

If the two of you were together, he’d be the protective type - he’d hate the fame you’re getting. He’s not jealous, just annoyed that many men will also be drooling over you too.

He likes to keep you, not share you, and in public he’ll often show that.

If anyone’s asking for a picture he won’t let go, he’ll keep a hand around your waist and force the fan to get him in the photo too.

Hell purposely start kissing you/ your neck when paparazzi are around. He likes people to know you’re taken.

After a long day of shooting or a fan-signing event, he’ll fuck you for hours on end just to prove you’re his.

°⨳°·..·°⨳°٭⊹°⨳°·..·°⨳° °⨳°·..·°⨳°٭⊹°⨳°·..·°⨳° °⨳

2. Konig.

Is he in the TaskForce or am I being stupid? I searched it up cause I was confused and it said he was a TaskForce 141 operator…so someone correct me if I’m wrong haha.

This man has no shame. He’ll have posters/collectibles of your characters and keep them around his room.

He’s the type to print out pictures of you from google and make his own posters out of them.

He does get a little embarrassed when someone brings up the fact he’s practically in love with you, and he doesn’t necessarily talk to his peers about it.

He finds it more of a quiet hobby. So whenever one of his colleagues steps into his room, he gets very flustered about his obsession.

Is a hard-core movie nerd, so he pleasures himself a lot to your pictures, characters, movie scenes, anything that includes you. His dick looks beat up and down right swollen from how long he spends jerking off to you.

If he was to ever see you in public, he would go feral. He’d be so nervous at first, not knowing how to approach you and visibly beating himself up to man up and go speak to you.

He’ll eventually do it and approach you, he’s very flustered but gets things done.

He’ll chat for ages once he’s comfortable, sometimes over-shares and is down right creepy about how obsessed he is with you.

Konig has a massive ego, so he’ll start to brag about how big of a fan he is, starts to really get into the conversation.

If you two were a couple, he’d have a love-hate relationship.

On one hand, Konig loves the fact you two are together and can show the whole world, but then again, he likes keeping things private between the two of you.

He really hates big crowds and talking to people, so whenever it comes to interviews he’s the most awkward person ever.

Paparazzi wise, you’re actually pretty lucky since he’s a huge guy and nobody really dares to cross a line with him.

He has the most intimidating stare without realising, but to you he’s just a big teddy bear.

He’ll swear at paparazzi in German.

Absolutely loves watching a movie with you in and fucking you raw on the couch as you’re watching said movie.

°⨳°·..·°⨳°٭⊹°⨳°·..·°⨳ °⨳°·..·°⨳°٭⊹°⨳°·..·°⨳° °⨳°·..

3. Captain John price.

He’s not sly or ashamed, he’ll be open about his liking towards you as an actress and a character.

He’s not the type to have any posters, figurines, etc, but this man will have a borderline obsession and has watched every movie you’re in.

He’ll scroll through your social media, sometimes sitting alone at his desk, busy with plans and work when he finds himself working his hand over his twitching cock under the table.

Price would definitely pull a picture of you up on his phone and cum all over the screen.

He likes badass characters, and you being in a lot of actions just does something to him - especially the outfits you wear.

If he caught you out in public, he would be so friendly that anyone would think the two of you are friends.

He’d approach you with no shame, his camera already out like a desperate puppy.

He doesn’t mean to, but invades your personal space a lot, will just hug you for a picture, wrap his arm around your waist, etc without knowing how touchy he’s being.

Tried to get your number ‘jokingly.’

If the two of you were a couple, he’d be devoted. He’d come to your sets, the biggest smile on his face as he watches you work.

On the red carpet etc, he will always have a hand wrapped around your waist - just a simple gesture to show everyone the two of you are a couple.

He doesn’t mind the fame you get, mostly because he’s with you all the time - so he keeps an eye on you.

This is just random - but if you smoke too he’ll blow the smoke into your mouth before kissing you (in public) in front of the cameras.

He’ll appreciate every inch of your body in the bedroom, especially after seeing you on set on the same day. He’ll beg you to take any outfit from the set back home to see you wear it.

This man will go on for hours, he has the most energy during sex.

sometimes when he gets jealous, he’ll take a picture of your nude body and save it just so he can act smug knowing he has it.

°⨳°·..·°⨳°٭⊹°⨳°·..·°⨳° °⨳°·.. °⨳°·..·°⨳°٭⊹°⨳°·..

There will be a part 2, for some reason my tumblr isn’t letting me type anymore. >:(.

[ena341polaris]

@arcana-twilight-official

The Atrw boys not canon (but could be) favorite foods, hobbies ect.

Warning: Can be inappropriate to some people.

Arcturus

Foods

Arcturus would eat lots of things but not like "weird" things in a sense. He wouldn't eat things like bugs or black licorice (like some psychopath that has destroyed multiple towers). Also he would not ever eat lamb. Never, if you put a cooked piece of lamb (even if it was cooked to perfection) he would not eat it. As for drinks, he drinks only caprisuns and danimals.

Hobbies

Arcturus, as we know, like to crochet and cook. He also probably likes to go to petting zoo's, not all of the time but I feel like when hes out on a scout he would stop by a petting zoo. But only petting zoos that had sheep. Arcky would also probably play sports, like baseball and soccer but he spuldnt be good or bad he would just be like "okay" persay.

Spica

Foods

Coffee grounds

Coffee

Coffee grounds

Latte

Starbucks

Tiramisu

Coffee

Coffee

Alpheratz's misery

Coffee

Coffee

Coffee

Coffee

Hobbies

Spica does horse riding, but he probably just does every now and again when he has time. He also probably has the longest lasting library member-ship known to man, every single library in Bound Arlyn knows him and he has a membership in all of them. He also probably likes to organize things a lot as well. But I dont understand why he doesnt sleep... to much and he also probably like bickering with alpheratz every now and again just because.

(He makes out with alpheratz all the time. That's why hes not sleeping)

Pollux

Foods

Pollux is picky, obviously, and his go-to item at a restaurant is chicken nuggets with fries and ketchup, you cannot convince me otherwise. He also probably strictly drinks juice like caprisuns and other juice brands. Although, I imagine Pollux would eat all different types of sweets, hes not picky at all when it comes to sweets actually. You could put a moldy doughnut in front of him and he would eat it no question.

Hobbies

Hes probably a youtuber or influencer of some sort. He also probably does prank cams where he draws on Alpheratz's face when hes sleeping. He also is a minecraft kid. Don't ask why. He plays minecraft daily and he has a creeper plushie on his bed and maybe a keychain of an iron golem on his backpack. He also plays Mario games, especially Mario Kart with you and Arcturus!

Karaoke

Vega

Foods

Have any of you noticed that Vega only eats mushed food? Like he eats those go go squeeze apple sauce packets and ice cream which is essentially all mushed food. I imagine him eating baby food (I'm sorry) but like he probably does. He also probably eats popsicles. He also eats mainly fruit based things as if he were a fruit bat.

Hobbies

Gymnastics

Baby girl-ing

Being a cutie patootie

Fencing and sparring

Karaoke

Anything that summoner does, says, breath, eats, looks at, smells, tastes, touches, notices, acknowledges, mentions, talks about, feels, looks at and comprehends.

Summoner

Being talked to by summoner

Being looked at by summoner

Being touched by summoner

Sirius

Foods

Souls of the dammed.

Misery of those around him.

Spiders, centipedes and other insects and reptiles

Other people (probably)

Dirt

Rocks

Sand

Metal

Your pet cat/dog or you siblings

Hobbies

Blowing places up

Stalking people

Pranks

Blowing places up

Shooting the innocent summoner

Target practice

Murder

Genocide

Burglary

Assault

Battery

Theft

War crimes

Alpheratz

Foods

Eats normally but in a more elegant rich type of way.

Really expensive foods and meals.

Hobbies

Sleeping

Zzzzzzzzzz 😴😴😴😴

Making out with spica

😴😴😴😴😴😴

Running away from Schedar

Sleeping

Sleeping

Shaming pollux for being short

Sleeping but this time on top of summoner

😴😴😴😴😴😴😴

[w1ngedsoul]

hi can you do headcanons on dating elijah mikaelson tvd x fem reader

This man is so polite.

Holding doors, helping you sit down, constantly asking you if you're alright or if you want to leave a party/random event.

He always makes you text him so that he knows you got home safe when he can't walk you home.

Flowers, jewellery, teddy bears. This man is amazing at gift giving, he quite literally knows you inside and out.

If you're curvy, then he'll love to hold onto your hips while kissing your neck.

If you're religious, he'll want to be as educated as possible. For example, if you're Jewish, he'll support you fully when you tell him you don't celebrate Christmas.

He'd practically internally scream watching you wear the clothes he buys you.

He wouldn't be able to keep he hands off of you.

"You look irresistible, darling. But, I'm afraid you would look far more stunning with that dress on the floor."

He knows exactly what to say in every conversation.

He has such a way with words that can either have you on your knees or crying on his shoulder.

He face was absolutely priceless when he told you he wanted to introduce you to his favourite classical pieces and you already knew all of them, in fact, you had a playlist full of classical.

Every Sunday morning from 11am-2pm, you'll sit in your living room with books in your hands, taking it in turns to read to each other.

Date night is something that Elijah takes very seriously. He'll take you to the finest, romantic restaurants and be an absolute gentlemen throughout the whole night.

And at the end of the night, when you've arrived home and you just placed the keys into the trinket, you'll hear a sharp whisper next to your ear.

"Undress."

Something he loves doing, is taking you to the theatre and watching a pantomime. He knows you used to watch them throughout your childhood but stopped as you grew older, he felt as if you should stay connected to those calming memories.

He's honestly the most loving boyfriend you've ever had, he'll remember all of the little things such as what your favourite song is to the perfume you wear only on special occasions.

He also remembers every detail about you, I mean that literally. Everything you've ever told him about yourself is ingrained in his brain, from the mean boy in primary school to graduating university.

He doesn't know why or how, but he's a lover for candlelit baths. Whenever he's stressed about a sibling or something came up at work, you'll run him a hot bath with candles surrounding the bathroom. Usually you'll put on sensual music in the background, but for most of the time he enjoys the silence.

Speaking of work, he actually has a job. Even though he's a vampire and doesn't necessarily need one, he wants to be as connected to a human life as possible. His siblings shamed him for it, claiming it was 'pathetic' of him and he should 'own his species'.

You supported him fully and he was forever grateful, he got a job in business which he's managed to keep for a good five years and so far, everything's gone well for him. He's the manager at his company and trains new employees daily, you've honestly never been prouder.

But, there are times where you let his mind slip when he's at work...

"You sent me pictures of you posing in lingerie in front of our mirror, while I was in a meeting."

"Did you like them? I made sure to wear your favourite colour."

You two don't keep anything from each other, you're always honest with one another which is what makes your relationship so strong.

"Hey J? Do you want to hear more about my aunt's aff-"

"Tell me."

J was a nickname you picked up randomly when you first met, it stuck ever since.

Once, when you two were talking about hobbies, you mentioned your grandmother taught you how to knit and crochet.

From that day forward, Elijah bought a ton of crochet tools and pulled up YouTube tutorials every evening practicing.

Then when your anniversary rolled around, he presented you with a bouquet of perfectly crocheted flowers.

"Do you like them, darling?"

Something that Elijah tries to keep hidden: he gets jealous so easily.

If there's someone staring at you with the wrong look in their eyes, Elijah will make sure they won't have eyes to look out of by the end of the hour.

Or if someone asks for your number, he'll make sure to introduce himself, and maybe introduce them to his newest spiked bat...

He's not really one for torturing people, but when it's necessary like when you're in danger he'll go through hell and back to make sure you're untouched.

He'd kill for you, even his siblings if it came to it.

He would quite literally die for you, he even told you this when you were gazing at the stars.

"You know, even though you have made this life wondrous in so many ways, I'd let the world take me just so you'd be safe."